To  meet  the   almost   universal    demand   for  a  safe,  reliable  and  elegant  liquid  laxative,  we 
offer  to  the  medical  profession  our  -•" 

SYRUP  OF  FIGS 

(SYR.  FICI.  CAL.) 

which  is  an  agreeable  and  effective  laxative  or  purgative,  according  to  the  dose  or  manner  of 
administration.  It  is  delightful  to  the  taste,  is  perfectly  safe,  does  not  debilitate,^  hence  may  be 
given  to  patients  of  all  ages,  even  the  very  young  and  very  old.  We  utilize  in  its  manufacture 
the  delicious 

BLUE  FIG  OF  CALIFORNIA 

After  a  thorough  study  of  the  results  to  be  accomplished  and  of  the  best  methods  to  be 
employed  to  produce  a  perfect  laxative,  which  would  always  be  pleasant  to  the  taste  and  as  safe  to 


«C 


iT^^''^'  ' 


One  or  two  tea- 
spoonfuls  act  as  a 

immi 

when  given  at  bed- 
time or  before 
breakfast 


One-half  to  one 
tablespoonful  acts 
as    a 

rUMTlVE 

and  may  be  repeated 
in  six  hours,  if  nec- 
essary 


administer  to  infants  as  to  adults,  we  began  the  manufacture  of  Syrup  of  Figs  (Syr.  Fici.  Cal.)  by 
adding  to  the  Blue  Fig  of  California  an  excellent  combination  of  carminative  aromatics,  pure 
white  sugar  and  the  juice  of 

TRUE  ALEXANDRIA  SENNA 

which  represents  all  the  purgative  principles  without  any  of  its  griping  properties. 
SYRUP  OF  FIGS  '^F-  l'''^^-  Cal.)  is  now  prescribed  by  prominent  physicians  everywhere, 
and  is  giving  them  general  satisfaction.  We  devote  our  entire  attention  to  its  manufacture,  have 
complete  facilities  especially  adapted  to  the  purpose,  and  thus  we  are  enabled  to  make  this  perfect 
laxative,  which  though  so  simple  in  itself  has  not  been  produced  in  all  its  excellence  by  others ; 
'therefore,  we  trust  and  believe  that  physicians  will  not  allow  imitations  of  our  syrup  to  be 
substituted  when  they  prescribe  SYR  FICI  CAL  (Svuip  ol  Figs,)  which  is  manufactured 
ONLY  by  the 

CALIFORNIA  FIG  SYRUP  COMPANY 


LOUISVILLE,  KY. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL 


NEW  YORK,  N.  Y. 


IT  IS  SOLO  IN    BOTTLES  OF  TWO  SIZES  ONLY, 


THE  SM'LLER    BOTTLES  CONTAINING  FUL 
ABOUT  TEN   OUNCES. 


.  FOUR  OUNCES  AND  THE  LARGE  SIZE 


A       c^ 


>^  .<5^    ty^  ^"^ 


^n#^ 


><= 


N^V^ 


.'^  <^- 


Valuable 

in  Neuralgia, 

Sciatica,    Acute 

Rheumatism   and 

Typhoid  Fever ;  also 

Headache     and     other 

Neuroses  due  to  Irregularities 

of  Menstruation.     Exhibited  in 

Asthma,     Hay    Fever,    Influenza, 

I-a    Grippe     and    allied    complaints, 

it  secures  the  desired  results. 

urther  information  and  samples 
sent  free  on  application. 

Antikamnia  Chemical  Co. 

St.  Louis,  Mo. 


For  $3.00 


We  will  send  a  handsome,  double  morocco 
pocket  case,  containing  24  vials,  filled  with  the 
following  complete  assortment  of 

Tablets  and  Triturates 

Hypophos.  Quinia  comp.  Creasote. 
Acetanilid.  2  grains. 
Morphia  Sulph.,  ',_,  grain. 
Zinc  Sulpho-carb  ,  i  grain. 
Dover's  Powder.  2^^  grains. 
Kever.  (Dr.  T.  G   Davis). 
Hydrarg   Iodide  Virid,  '/  grain. 
Iron,  Arsenic,  and  Str)chnia. 
Paregoric,  10  minim. 
Strychnia,  i-fo  grain. 
Ouinia  sulph.,  i  gtain. 
Corros.,  Sublimate,  1-40. 
Amnion,  Mur.  comp. 
Calomel,  i  10  grain. 
Calomel,  2-graius. 

Calomel   ipecac  and  soda  bicarb,  No.  i. 
Tr.  aconite,  %  minim. 
Tr.  belladonna,  2  luinim. 
Nitro  Glycerine  Comp.  (M.  &  Co.'s). 
Cascara  comp.  (M.  &  Co  's) 
Acid  Arsenious,  i  60  grain. 
Four  Chlorides  fUniv.  Hospital). 
Bismuth  et  Cerii  O.xalat. 
Size,  yYs  X  3^4  X  "s  inches     Price.  3  00.      P      Kermes  Mi'  eral  Comp. 

All  viaLs  ill.  this  case  are  fitted  with  screw-caps. 

We  would  call  especial  attention  to  our  TABLETS.  HYFHOPHOS.  QUINIA  COMP.  CUM  CREA- 
SOTE, which  are  superior  to  syrups  and  solutions,  owing  to  absence  of  sugar  and  free  acid. 

H.  K.  nULFORD  COnFflNT, 

Factors  of  Compressed  Goods  and  Pharmaceutical  Preparations, 
ivri/e/or  Complete  List.  2132  Market  Street,  Philadelphia. 


STORIES 


OF 


A  COUNTRY  DOCTOR. 


BY  WILLIS   P.   KING,   M.   D. 

First  Vice-President  of  American  Medical  Association,  Ex-President  of  the  Missouri 
State  Medical  Association,  Assistant  Chief  Surgeon  of  the  Missouri  Pacific  Rail- 
way Co.,  formerly  Lecturer  on  Diseases  of  Women  in  the  Medical  Depart- 
ment OF  the  Missouri  State  University,  and   Professor  of  Diseases  of 
Women  in  the  Medical  Department  University  of  Kansas  City  ;  Lec- 
turer   on    Orthop.edig    Surgery   and    Clinical  Surgery    in  the 
University  Medical  College  of  Kansas  City,  Member  of  the 
Jackson  County  (Mo.)  Medical  Society,  Ex-President  of  the 
Pettis  County  (!Mo.)  Medical  Society,  Formerly  Assistant 
Physician  and  Surgeon  to  the  Pettis  County  (Mo.) 
Jail  and  Poor  House,    and   Ex-PiiYsici-iN  anj 
Surgeon  to  the  Branch  Water  Man,  and 
HIS  Folks. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  T.  A.  FITZGERALD. 


F*rice,  One  Dollar,  in.  ClotlT.. 


Philadelphia  : 

Hummel  and  Parmele,  Publishers, 

612  Drexel  Building. 

i8qi. 


EuLered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  1889. 

BY  WILLIS  P.  KING,  M.  D. 

In  llie  office  of  tlie  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


DeMcatlon. 

TO    THE 
PROGRESSIVE,  GOOD,  CONSCIENTIOUS    AND    TRUE 

Men  OF  THE  Medical  Profession 

OF    THE    united    STATES, 
AND    TO 

The  Jolly  Good  Fellows  Everywhere, 

this  "book 

is  affectionately  dedicated,  by 

The  Author. 


w. 


BnTs^Son,  St.  L<n.is,  Mo.    .   Tlic  MlssouFi  Pacific  R'y  Co., 


Leased  and  Operated  Lines. 
HOSPITAL   DEP^VRTIVIENT. 


W.  P.  King, 

Ass't  C  hie/ Surgeon,  Kar">ns  City,  Mo. 

T>.  J.  Holland, 

AssH  C hie/ Surgeon,  Atchison,  Ks. 

R.  C.  VOLKER. 

Ass't  C hie/ Surgeon,  Ft.  Worth  Tex.  ^^  _  ,,        , 

J.  W.  Jenkins,  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  ) 

Dep't  Purveyor,  St.  Louis,  Mo.  July  12,    1890.        ) 

The  Ale  &  Beef  Co. 

Dear  Sirs — Answering  yours  of  8th  inst,,  will  say  that  I  have  used  the  Ale 
and  Beef,  "  Peptonized, "  in  both  hospital  and  private  practice,  and  am  much 
pleased  with  it.  My  house  surgeons  (Drs.  F.  R.  Smiley  and  Geo.  F.  Hamel) 
inform  me  that  it  agrees  with  the  stomach  in  cases  where  food  can  not  be 
retained,  and  this  agrees  with  my  own  experience.  I  had  one  case  of  a  delicate 
lady  ivith  a  forming  pelvic  abscess  which  involved  the  ovary.  There  was  con- 
stant vomiting  and  retching.  She  retained  the  Ale  and  Beef,  "Peptonized.' 
This,  after  I  had  tried  a  number  of  things  which  had  failed.  She  drank  it 
steadily  for  a  month,  and  it  seemed  to  be,  in  her  case,  food,  medicine,  stimu- 
lant and  lodging — all  in  one.  It  is  an  excellent  thing.  Keep  up  the  good 
quality  of  the  preparation  and  it  will  readily  sell. 

Very  respectfully, 

Willis  P.  King,  M.  D., 
Asst.  Chief  Surgeon,  Mo.  P.  Ry. 


s^- 


CHAPTER  I     THE  WEST. 

The  Pioneers — Causes  that  Move  Men  into  a  New  Country — Charac- 
ter of  the  People  who  Settled  Missouri — Their  Simple  Honesty 
and  Hospitality — Dealing  with  a  Dishonest  Neighbor — Helping  a 
Neighbor — Athletic  Sports — Settling  a  Controversy— Old  Gill  R. 
and  His  Tangled  Shirt — A  Joke  on  Judge  H 13 

CHAPTER  n— EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS. 

Disadvantages  as  to  Education — The  Pioneer  School  House — The  old 
Irish  Teacher  and  His  Terrible  Discipline — Text  Books — Examin- 
ing the  Teacher — Turning  the  Teacher  Out — Stimulants — Joe 
— The  Mad  Teacher 32 

CHAPTER  III— OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES. 

Country  Dances  and  the  Dancers — Female  Critics — Three  Stories  of 
Three  Generations  of  Men 47 

CHAPTER  IV— CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS. 

Good  Fellowship  and  Hospitality — Effects  of  Civilization — Dancing 
Parties — A  Conspiracy,  and  What  Came  of  It— Tom's  Appetite 
Works  Havoc — Weddings — The  Preacher's  Two  Stories 62 

CHAPTER  V— PECULIARITIES   OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE. 

Influence  of  Education  on  the  Conformation  of  the  Body — Some  Spec- 
imens— Story  of  the  Old  Linen  Coat  and  the  Masonic  March — Col. 
Jack's  Story  of  His  Only  Love 83 

CHAPTER  VI— THEN  AND  NOW. 

Hardships  of  the  Pioneer — The  Way  They  Lived — Muscle  and  its  En- 
vironment— The  Result  of  Education  and  Wealth — C.  Augustus 
and  Arabella — A  Contrast — Why? 106 

CHAPTER  VII— SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS  AND 
FOOLISH  IDEAS. 

Antiquity  of  Superstition — Man  a  Superstitious  Animal — "  Signs  " — 
Crowing  Hens,  Bellowing  Cows,  Etc. — Losing  Her  "  Cud  " — Mc- 
Gee's  Diagnosis — Bible  Witchery — Raising  the  Palate — The  Silver 
Plate,  Etc. — Passing  the  Handkerchief— Negro  Superstitions iig 


70?236 


6  Contents. 

CHAPTER  VIII— PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES 
AND  NURSES. 

Reasons   Why  the   Profession  do   not   Like   Preacher  Doctors — The 

Nurse  and  the  "  Nuss  " — Stories  about  "Nusses." 142 

CHAPTER  IX— THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN. 

His  General  Character  and  Habits;  His  Dog,  Team  and  Wife — Stories 

of  Keesecker  and  Old  Darling 157 

CHAPTER  X— THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY 
PRACTICE. 

The  Country  Doctor — The  Young  Doctor's  Dream — Obstacles — My 
First  Case — Laughing  Down  Her  Throat — The  Widow  B.  and  the 
Night  I  Slept  with  the  Cat — A  Blood-Curdling  Incident..... 182 

CHAPTER  XI— UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED. 

A  Contrast — How  to  Tell  When  Your  Patient  is  Dead — Cupping  the 
Old  Lady— Smart  People — The  Sick  Horse— Fighting  Fire — The 
Prairie  Mirage— Home  Again 200 

CHAPTER  XII— BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS. 

Wanted  to  be  a  Millionaire— A  Trip  to  Colorado — The  "  Phoenix  "  and 
the  Tree  Oyster — ^Natural  Phenomena — "The  Lightness  of  the 
Atmosphere  " — A  Tenderfoot's  Failure — The  Grandeur  of  the 
Mountains — The  Good  of  Desiring  to  do  Good 219 

CHAPTER  XIII— DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  AND 
CONFESSIONS. 

General  Considerations — "Cause   of  Bill  Simpson  Going  to  H 1" 

—The  "  Colonel "  and  the  Meteoric   Shower — "  Uncle  Mike  "  and 
the  Story  of  the  Stoning  of  Stephen 237 

CHAPTER  XIV— SHAM  SUICIDES. 

A  Startling  Statement — The  Young  Wife — The  Jilted  Girl  and  the 
Deadly  Flour — Dr.  Eggslinger — Story  of  the  Widow  Minor — The 
Rejected  Lover — How  to  Detect  the  Fraud 255 

CHAPTER  XV— LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES. 

General  Observations  on  Lying— Classification  of  Liars— Bill  Whit- 
tington  and  a  Sample  of  His  Lies— Sim's  Unfair  Trick — The  Story 
of  the  Bullies — Jack,  the  Barber,  and  Rafferty's  Funeral — A  Great 
Shot  and  a  Fast  Trotter— Do  Doctors  Lie? — Several  Samples 
which  Answer  the  Question— An  Asylum  for  Liars 272 


Contents.  7 

CHAPTER  XVI— CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE. 

Reasons  for  the  Code— Relations  of  Doctor  and  Patient — The  New 
Comer  and  the  Emergency  Case — Smith  and  the  Cat  Skin  Poul- 
tice— Jones'  Hot  Corn  and  Burnt  Feathers — "  Old  Pill  Garlic  "  and 
the  Dying  Girl .- 297 

CHAPTER  XVII— PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS. 

Patients,  Hotel  Keepers,  Etc. — The  Homely  Crank — "  The  Hon.  Mrs, 
Skewton  " — Mr.  Gutzweiler — The  Sick  Girl,  the  Deaf  Landlady 
with  the  Trumpet,  and  the  Milliner 319 

CHAPTER  XVIII— DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE? 

Helping  the  Doctor,  or  Otherwise — A  Second  Marriage  and  a  Mother- 
less Child — The  Result  of  Developing  One  Side  of  the  Family — 
January  and  May — "Did  He  Kill  His  Wife?" 346 

CHAPTER  XIX-GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE. 

Necessity  for  More  Education — The  Southwest — My  Own  Trip — My 
111  Fitting  Clothes— My  Plug  Hat  and  the  Old  Maid— My  Re- 
venge— The  Oyster  Supper  with  Observations  on  the  Heathen 363 

CHAPTER  XX-QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY. 

The  True  Physician — The  Different  Kinds  of  Quacks — The  Gentle- 
manly Quack — The  Smart  Pretender — The  Professional  Buzzard 
or  "Jim  Crow"  Doctor — "Abdominal  Digitalis  and  Aortic  Regurgi- 
tation"— Dr.  Connecktie  and  Dr.  GuUus 378 


Gardner's  Syrup  of  Hydriodic  Acid 

lOblDE  OF  HTDROQEN 

This  is  the  original  preparation  of  Syrup  of  Hydriodic  Acid,  first 
brought  to  the  attention  of  the  medical  world  in  1878,  by  R.  W. 
Gardner.  Its  use  has  established  the  reputation  of  Hydriodic  Acid 
as  a  remedy. 

Indications :  Hay  Fever ;  Rose  Cold  ;  Poisoning  by  Lead,  Mercury 
or  Arsenic ;  Rheumatism,  Acute  or  Chronic ;  Asthma ;  Chronic 
Bronchitis ;  Catarrh,  either  Respiratory,  Uterine,  or  Intestinal ; 
Sciatica ;  Scald  Head ;  Vaginitis ;  Urethritis ;  Congestion  of  the 
IvUngs  in  Children  ;  Adenitis  :  Eczema  ;  Lupus  ;  Chronic  Malarial 
Poisoning ;  Lumbago  ;  Acute  Pneumonia  ;  Psoriasis  ;  Scrofulous 
Diseases  ;  Goitre ;  Enlarged  Glands  :  Cold  Abscesses ;  Indolent 
Sores ;  Obesity ;  Fatty  Degeneration  of  the  Heart ;  to  Absorb 
Non-malignant  Tumors  ;  in  the  latter  stages  of  Syphilis  ;  Syphilitic 
Phthisis  ;  Pleurisy  with  Adhesion  ;  Pleurisy  with  Exudation,  etc. 

This  preparation  has  been    successfully   employed  in  the  above-named 
diseases,  details  of  which,  written  by   the  physicians  who  have  used, 
it,  will  be  sent  to  the  medical  profession,  without  charge. 

Gardner's  Syrups  of 
Chemically  Pure  Hypophosphites 

Prepared     strictly    in    accord    with    Dr.    Churchill's    views, 

representing  single  salts ;  enabling  the  ph^^sician  to  follow  this 
eminent  authority  in  the  scientific  methods  which  his  experience  of 
thirtj^  years  has  proven  the  most  efficient. 

Copies  of  the  third,  seventh,  and  eighth  editions,  issued  by  the  under- 
signed, containing  copious  quotations  from  Churchill,  upon  the 
scientific  aspects  of  this  treatment  ;  physiological  and  therapeutical 
doses  ;  toxic  or  poisonous  doses ;  indications  and  contra-indications ; 
auscultation  ;  complications  ;  relapse  ;  phosphates  and  hypophosphites 
compared  ;  other  and  antagonistic  remedies  ;  theory  of  Tuberculosis, 
etc.,  will  be  mailed  without  charge  to  physicians. 

It  is  worthy  the  study  of  any  physician,  and  accidents,  relapse,  and 
failure  may  be  the  result  of  its  non-observance. 


Prepared  by  R.  W.  GARDNER 
Pharmaceutical  Chemist 

w.  H.  SCHIEFFELIN  &  CO.,  158  William  street,  New  York 

New  York,  Sole  Agents. 


PREFACE. 

"  When  a  person  knows  a  story  that  he  thinks  he  ought  to  tell, 
If  he  doesn't  get  to  tell  it  why,  of  course,  he  don't  feel  well." 

— Eugene  F.   Ware. 

Every  book  must  have  a  preface,  and  so,  "yielding 
to  an  imperious  custom,"  I  write  one  for  mine.  The 
preface  usually  tells  why  the  author  wrote  the  book  ; — 
"there  was  a  demand,"  "a  crying  need,"  ''along  felt 
want,"  etc.,  etc. 

Now,  I  can  scarcely  tell  why  I  wrote  this  book. 
There  were  many  reasons  that  impelled  me  to  the  task. 
My  friends  urged  me  to  write  it — friends  who  had  seen 
me,  with  my  great  capacity  for  enjoyment,  gallantly 
wrestling  with  poverty  year  after  year  and  generally 
getting  thrown  the  "three  best  in  five."  They  thought 
I  had  a  fortune  within  my  grasp  if  I  would  only  put  my 
ideas  and  my  stories  into  a  book. 

They  desired  that  I  should  grow  rich  so  that  they 
could  borrow  my  money,  I  desired  to  grow  rich  so 
that  I  could  refuse  them.  I  can't  refuse  them  so  longf 
as  I  am  poor. 

I  found  a  niche  ("a  long  felt  want,"  you  see, 
reader)  which  has  never  been  filled  by  any  writer, 
and  so  occupied  it. 

I  desired  to  give  the  world  the  benefit  of  what  I 
had  learned    of  humanity  in    a  quarter  of  a  century's 


10  Preface. 

practice.  I  desired  to  give  the  praise  due  the  honest, 
conscientious  and  hard  working  men  in  my  profession — 
the  noblest  and  most  unselfish  humanitarians  that  grace 
the  earth  with  their  noble  deeds — as  well  as  to  put  on 
record  the  eood,  the  beautiful  and  true  in  human  nature 
which  we  find  in  connection  with  our  life  work. 

I  also  wished  to  hold  up  before  the  calcium  light  of 
public  scrutiny  and  to  properly  excoriate  the  quacks  and 
scoundrels  who  infest  our  communities  and,  by  their 
falsehoods  and  frauds,  bring  disgrace  on  a  noble  call- 
ing :  and,  I  desired  to  properly  characterize  and  satirize 
those  who  hinder  our  work  by  their  ignorant  supersti- 
tions, their  selfishness  and  vanity. 

I  also  wished  to  go  down  in  history  with  that  noble 
army  of  the  world's  benefactors — the  book  writers,  as  a 
man  who  had  written  a  book.  I  hope  that  the  book 
may  be  the  means  of  affording  amusement  and  giving 
pleasure  to  both  my  overworked  professional  brethren 
and  the  community  at  large. 

And  last  and  best  of  all,  dear  reader,  I  desired  to 
make  something  out  of  the  enterprise.  If  I  do  there 
will  be  rejoicing  at  our  house  when  the  receipts  come  in. 
There  will  be  a  feast  in  which  the  timbrel  and  the  hew- 
gag  will  be  sounded,  and  I  promise  you  that  the  widow 
and  the  orphan  shall  not  be  forgotten. 

Complaint  may  be  made  that  the  personal  pronoun 
"I"  has  been  used  oftener  than  it  should  have  been. 
This  may  be  true.  My  friends  say  that  I  have  a  plenty 
of  that  very  necessary  faculty  called  self  esteem.     To 


Preface.  i  i 

this    I    also    "  plead   guilty   and    put   myself  upon   the 
country." 

As  a  defense,  however,  I  desire  to  say  that  most  of 
the  things  written  about  in  this  book  have  a  personal 
relationship  to  myself,  and,  being  too  modest  to  put  my- 
self on  an  equality  with  the  editors  and  the  Lord,  by 
saying  "we,"  I  was  compelled  to  say  "I ;"  so  "the  'I's' 
seem  to  have  it." 

The  publishers  are  instructed  that,  if  the  font  of 
large  "I's"  runs  out,  to  put  in  little  "i's"  and  go  on 
with  the  book,  so,  "  the  '  i's'  have  it." 

I  bow,  W.  P.  K. 

Kansas  City,  Mo. 


Qhas.  f  ruax 

Qreene  &  Qo. 

J)eformity 
J^pparatus 

AND  APplia^c^^ 


^ 


MANUFACTURERS   OF 


Artificial 
Limbs 


OF  ALL 
KINDS 


Artificial       ^    ^iprusses 

gyes  Supporters 


The  opposite  engravings  are 
from  photographs  of  John 
Langfeldt,  of  Rock  Rapids, 
Iowa,  who  lost  both  hands 
and  both  feet  in  the  great 
blizzard  of  Jan.  12-13,  1888. 

He  was  fitted  with  both 
hands  and  feet  in  September, 
1888,  when  he  came  to  Chi- 
cago with  an  attendant, 
utterly  unable  to  do  anything 
for  himself — had  to  be  carried 
from  a  carriage  into  our 
store.  Within  an  hour  after 
completing  the  feet  he  walked 
to  his  hotel,  several  blocks 
distant,  and  thereafter  walk- 
ed all  about  the  city.  Within 
a  few  minutes  after  fitting  his 
hands  he  took  a  pencil  and 
wrote  his  own  name  quite 
plainly. 

The  following  letter  was 
written  in  April,  1891  : 

Charles  Truax,  Chicago, 111.: 

Dear  Sir :  In  reply  to 
yours  of  the  loth  inst.,  I  will 
state  that  Dr.  Wallace  am- 
putated all  four  of  my  limbs 
on  January  27,  1888,  and 
in  September,  1888,  you  put 

artificial  hmbs  on  me,  and  almost  ever  since  I  could  walk 
well,  and  now  I  am  following  a  plow  all  day,  and  also  can 
walk  up  and  down  stairs  with  perfect  ease,  and  have  been 
seeding  or  farming  all  spring. 

Yours  respectfully, 

(Signed)  John  Langfeldt. 


JJearing  Instruments,  polling  Qhairs,  £tc. 

CORRESPONDENCE  SOLICITED 

Chas.  Truax,  Greene  &  Co.,  Chicago,  U.S.A. 


IvCCd  will  never  add  any  new  preparations  to  their  list 

unless  they  possess  important  points  of  superiority 
over  those  in  use  by  the  medical  profession  for 
similar  purposes. 

We  are  confident  that  the  following  preparations  for  the  purposes 
described  are  superior  to  any  therapeutic  agents  known  to  the  Medical 
Profession,  or  are  presented  in  more  elegant  form  for  administration. 


&         II 
Carnrick 


ZpOGldB  (imtisepsiiie) 


For  Leucorrhoea,  Catarrh  of  the  nasal  organs,  stomach 
or  bladder,  and  all  diseases  of  the  mucous  Surfaces,  or 

whenever  a  non-toxic,  antiseptic   and   detergent  pre- 
paration is  required. 

Donnrnhilin  ^^^  intestinal  indigestion,  Constipation  and  to  increase 

rdliulUllllllI  f^tty   tissue.     The   price   of  Pancrobilin  has  been  re- 

duced 33  per  cent. 

For  Rheumatic  and  Gouty  Diathesis,  and   excessive 
Urates. 


For  imparting  tone  to  the  system,  increasing  the  appetite, 
improving  the  digestion,  enhancing  the  functions  of 
assimilation  and  blood-making  and  removing  malarial 
and  other  taint  from  the  blood. 

For  dissolving  the  diphtheritic  membrane  and  for  treat- 
ing diseases  of  the  mucous  surfaces.  Valuable  in 
parasitic  skin  diseases. 

For  the  feeding  of  Infants  from  birth  to  six  months  of 
age.     The  only  All-Milk  Food  prepared  for  Infants. 


Gonial  Hiiaieptliie 
Gorngeijl  Pills 
SDipiio-GaiGlne 
Lacto-Preparaia 

uSriirlGK  8  Food  ^°^  ChUdren  from  six  months  to  fifteen  months  of  age. 

oULrlilln-lllKlKlilt  For  Biliousness,  Torpid  Liver,  Skin  Diseases,  Pii^ples 

TABLETS  ^^^  Imperfect  growth  of  the  nails  and  hair. 

Pnif  I  iirnr  nif   nnif  TTTIIl/  For  all  purposes  where  Cod  Liver  Oil  is  indicated.     The 

uOQ  LlVul  Ull   QuQ  IIIIIK  most    palatable    and    digestible    preparation  in    the 

'      '  market. 

MnUini   Ql/in  Qnnn  For  making  the  skin  soft.     It   is   a   perfect  Soap   for 

VulVuiuKlI]  uOdU  Infants  and  all  Toilet  Purposes.     It  is  made  only  from 

'  "  Vegetable  Oils. 

UAiiiiti  Offin  nAiiiAAK  For  Infants  and  all  Toilet  Pur 

VBlV6(-SRin  POWIIBr  i"  delicacy  and  fragrance. 

'  /1i=il£if  £M-ir\iic    en  Kef  Qnr»f:ic 


For  Infants  and  all  Toilet  Purposes.    It  excels  all  others 

Contains   no   starch   or 
deleterious  substances. 


Send  for  pamphlet  giving  minute  formulas  and  full  description  of  each  preparation. 

Reed  &  Carnrick 

p.  0.  Box  3042  NEW  YORK 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  WEST. 


THS  PIONEER — CAUSES  THAT  MOVE  MEN  INTO  A  NEW 
COUNTRY — CHARACTER  OP  THE  PEOPLE  WHO  SETTLED  MIS- 
SOURI— THEIR  SIMPLE  HONESTY  AND  HO"^  'ITALITY — DEALING 
WITH  A  DISHONEvST  NEIGHBOR — ATHLET^lC  SPORTS — SETTLING 
A  CONTROVERSY — OLD  GILL  R.  AND  HIS  TANGLED  SHIRT — A 
JOKE   ON   JUDGE   H. 

summ^^       yV  O   West,  young  man,  and 
grow   up    with  the  coun- 
try."      What      is      "the 
West  ?  "      At    one    time 
western    New    York   was 
"the  West;"  then  Penn- 
sylvania was  "the  West;" 
then    Ohio    and    Tennes- 
see;    then    Indiana,     lUi- 
nois   and  Missouri;  after- 
wards Minnesota,  Kansas 
and  Nebraska;  then   Col- 
orado,    Nevada,    Oregon 
and    the    territories;     and 
~^T  <|^  now — there  18  no  West. 
Immigration,  capital,  railroads,  the  telegraph,  news- 
papers, and  all  the  arts  of  civilization  have  penetrated  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  from  Puget  Sound  to  the  Ba}^  of  San 
Francisco;  and  ever3^where,  where  only  a  few  years  ago 


14  The  West. 

the  wild  Indian,  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forests 
and  the  prairies  held  sway,  and  where  the  deep  silence 
had  never  been  broken  b}'  civilized  man,  now  on 
the  prairies,  in  the  valle3^s,  and  on  the  mountain  sides, 
cities,  towns  and  villages  stand,  and  in  place  of  the  yell 
of  the  untutored  savage,  the  prattle  of  civilized  children 
on  their  way  to  school,  or  the  plaintive  voice  of  prayer 
is  heard.  Instead  of  the  screams  of  the  wolf  we  hear 
the  bay  of  the  faithful  watch  dog;  and  instead  of  the  rush 
of  the  great  herds  of  buffalo  we  hear  the  peaceful  low  of 
the  Short  Horn,  the  Jersey,  the  Hereford  and  the  Polled 
Angus,  as  they  quietly  graze  in  meadows  of  clover,  blue 
grass  and  timothy, 

This  is  a  wonderful  change  to  have  been  wrought 
in  less  than  a  century.  How,  and  by  what  means,  has 
this  change  been  wrought  ?  By  the  energy,  nerve  and 
pluck  of  man.  B}'  the  indomitable  courage  of  Ameri- 
cans; of  men  who  were  tired  of  the  restraints  and  forms 
ot  older  communities;  of  men  who  desired  and  sought  a 
wider  and  better  field  for  themselves  and  those  depend- 
ant upon  them. 

It  is  a  fact  that  in  all  communities  there  is  a  ten- 
dency toward  an  accumulation  of  money — the  wealth  of 
the  commuity — in  the  hands  of  a  few.  The  brainy,  the 
crafty,  and  the  stingy  men;  the  men  who  starve  them- 
selves in  order  to  hoard  money;  the  men  who  always 
have  something  to  sell;  or,  who,  if  they  do  pur- 
chase, always  do  so  when  a  thing  is  cheap,  and  never 
sell  except  when  it  is  high;  the  men  who  loan  money  at 
twenty-five  per  cent;  who  take  "  cut-throat ''  mortgages 


The  West.  15 

and  sorrowfully  sell  their   neighbors  out  when  the  mort- 
gage is  due. 

This  man  you  will  find  everywhere,  a  man  who 
seems  to  have  been  born  with  a  dollar  in  his  hand,  and 
that  dollar  crying  for  ten  per  cent,  secured  by  a  deed  of 
trust.  These  men  are  often  ignorant,  but  always  know 
how  to  accumulate  and  keep  money.  They  are  some- 
times religious,  but  never  let  their  religion  get  between 
them  and  ten  per  cent,  interest.  They  often  express 
and  seem  to  feel  an  interest  in  their  fellow  man,  but 
,when  you  probe  the  matter  to  the  bottom,  it  is  teii  per 
cent,  interest  or  more. 

I  have  seen  a  man  of  this  type  go  so  ragged  that 
you  wouldn't  have  thought  of  using  his  suit  for  a  scare- 
crow, and  wearing  a  hat  that  a  decent,  thoughtful  hen 
wouldn't  deign  to  make  a  nest  in.  They  are  always 
poor  and  alw^ays  hard  up,  if  you  will  believe  them ;  but, 
when  the  opportunity  of  a  good  bargain  offers  they  can 
always  go  down  and  get  out  an  old  pocket  book  filled 
with  bills  pressed  so  tight  that  it  is  difficult  to  open  them, 
and  with  twenty  dollar  gold  pieces  whose  luster  is 
dimmed  by  the  sweat  of  their  stingy  groins. 

I  am  neither  an  anarchist,  nor  a  communist,  but  with 
all  the  power  of  an  intense  nature,  I  contemn  and  des- 
pise the  man  who  gets  money  through  selfish  motives 
and  purely  and  solely  for  selfish  purposes. 

Well,  these  are  the  fellows  who  cause  immigration  ; 
these  are  the  men  who  compel  other  and  better  men  to 
move.  They  get  their  clutches  on  him ;  they  get  a 
mortgage  on  him,  they  entangle  him  in   their  tentacles 


1 6  The  West. 

like  the  octopus,  and  finally  end  by -exposing  him  at 
public  auction  according  to  the  accepted  forms  of  law. 
When  a  man  is  sold  out,  "  broken  up,''  he  wants  to 
move.  His  financial  prostration  is  an  evidence  of  weak- 
ness, and  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  defeat,  and  no 
man  wishes  to  remain  where  he  has  exhibited  his  weak- 
ness— where  he  has  suffered  defeat.  He  seeks  an  out- 
let, and  the  outlet  is  in  a  new  country,  in  a  country 
where  land  is  cheap,  where  grazing  is  good,  where  the 
social  forms  are  simple,  where  a  living  is  easily  obtained, 
and  where  ten  per  cent,  has  not  3'et  gained  a  foothold. 

Of  course  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  saying 
that  all  men  who  seek  a  new  country  do  so  from  the 
causes  mentioned,  for  it  would  not  be  true.  There  are 
those  who  simply  feel  the  restraints  of  social  forms  which 
grow  as  society  grows  older  ;  there  are  those  of  a  ven- 
turesome spirit  who  delight  in  the  boundless  freedom  of 
a  new  country  ;  there  are  those  who  desire  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  a  new  country  in  order  to  improve  their  con- 
dition, and  there  are  those  who  seek  a  new  country  be- 
cause they  can  live  in  contact  with  wild  nature  without 
labor — the  man  with  the  rod  and  the  gun — who  wants 
nothing  but  a  primitive  shelter  and  a  chance  to  hunt  and 
fish.  Civilization  is  always  crowding  such  people  and 
they  are  always  running  to  get  away  from  the  pressure 
and  they  will  continue  to  run  so  long  as  there  is  a  place 
to  run  to. 

Much  of  that  part  of  our  country  which  lies  west  of 
the  Mississippi  river  was  almost  an  unbroken  forest  and 
boundless,  uncultivated  prairies  up  to  three  quarters  of  a 


The  West.  17 

century  ago — indeed  much  of  it  was  in  the  same  condi- 
tion within  the  memory  of  the  writer.  It  was  a  country 
that  was  good  to  look  upon.  It  had  splendid  rivers — 
capable  of  bearing  upon  their  bosoms  the  commerce  of 
the  continent ;  forests  unhewn  and  untouched,  as  splen- 
did as  could  be  found  anywhere  ;  prairies  and  valleys, 
containing  millions  on  millions  of  acres  which,  under  cul- 
tivation, would  almost  supply  the  world  with  bread. 
Forests,  mountains,  valleys  and  plains,  whose  solitude 
except  by  the  savage  and  the  wild  beast  had  never  been 
broken. 

If  a  person  speaking  only  the  English  tongue  and 
capable  of  making  himself  heard  hundreds  of  miles  could 
have  taken  his  position  where  the  capital  of  Kansas  now 
stands  and  had  called  in  his  native  tongue  for  help  or 
for  companionship,  he  would  have  received  no  answer  ; 
if  he  had  gone  to  the  present  capital  of  Nebraska  and 
had  called  in  the  same  tongue,  no  one  would  have  re- 
sponded ;  if  he  had  gone  to  Denver  and  sent  his  voice 
ringing  and  reverberating  through  the  rocky  mountains 
and  wailing  out  across  the  sandy  plains,  it  would  have 
come  back  to  him  in  hollow  mocker}^  for  no  one  speak- 
ing his  language  would  have  been  near  enough  to  re- 
spond. He  might  have  gone  to  the  present  capitals  of 
Nevada,  Utah,  California,  Oregon,  Wyoming,  Washing- 
ton, Idaho  and  Dakota  and  lifted  up  his  voice  and  sent  it 
up  and  down  great  rivers  and  over  mountain,  valle}',  hill 
and  plain,  and  still  his  own  voice  would  have  mocked 
him  from  the  depths  of  the  solitudes  and  he  would  have 
received  no  answer  except  in  the  yell  of  the  wild  savage, 


i8  The  West. 

the  scream  of    the  coyote   and  the  roar  of   the  grizzly 

bear. 

The  first  settlements  west  of  the  Mississippi  (ex- 
cepting those  under  the  Spanish  and  French)  were  made 
by  the  pioneers  from  Kentucky,  Virginia,  Tennessee  and 
North  Carolina  with  an  occasional  straggler  from  Penn- 
sylvania or  some  other  Eastern  or  Northern  State. 

They  were  a  hardy  set.  As  a  rule  their  parents 
had  been  pioneers  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee.  They 
were,  to  some  extent,  inured  to  hardship,  and  they  pos- 
sessed faculties,  both  inherited  and  acquired,  which  ena- 
bled them  to  successfully  contend  with  the  difficulties 
which  they  daily  encountered. 

They  were  a  brave,  noble  and  unselfish  people — 
the  men  being  strong  and  courageous  and  the  women 
virtuous  and  pure.  Few  had  much  education,  so  far  as 
books  were  concerned  ;  many  had  none.  They  were 
hospitable  and  generous  to  a  fault.  They  literally 
hewed  their  way  into  the  unbroken  forests  and  formed 
their  settlements.  It  was  necessary  for  many  families  to 
settle  near  each  other,  for  the  Indian  still  possessed  the 
land,  and,  notwithstanding  the  numerous  treaties,  which 
were  intended  to  dispossess  him  and  render  the  homes 
and  lives  of  the  settlers  secure,  yet  he  was  a  dangerous 
neicrhbor,  and  often  made  murderous  incursions  into 
these  settlements,  killing  men,  women  and  children  and 
driving  away  stock. 

Notwithstanding  the  dangers  and  difficulties  which 
surrounded  and  beset  them  they  were  a  happy  people. 
There  were  no  newspapers  but  they   had  the  news.     It 


The  West.  ig 

was  longer  in  coming  but  it  lasted  longer  when  they 
once  got  it.  They  had  no  theatres  but  they  had  their 
fun.  They  were  an  original  set,  and  would  go  to  more 
trouble  and  spend  more  tjme  in  perpetrating  a  joke  on  a 
neighbor  than  most  men  would  spend  now-a-days  in  or- 
ganizing a  mining  company  or  starting  a  bank. 

These  people  had  but  little.  They  needed  but 
little.  What  one  had  all  had.  Such  a  thino^  as  a  neio-h- 
bor  wanting  for  anything,  no  matter  whether  he  was 
able  to  pay  for  it  or  not,  was  unheard  of.  Those  who 
had  more  milk,  butter  and  eggs  than  they  could  use 
gave  to  those  who  were  less  fortunate.  Even  durino- 
the  boyhood  of  the  writer  (and  that  is  not  so  long  ago) 
this  practice  prevailed.  Not  until  the  railroads  pene- 
trated the  State  of  Missouri  did  our  people  begin  to  sell 
eggs,  butter,  milk  and  "garden  truck.'' 

The  people  whom  these  railroads  brought  from 
the  crowded  North  and  East  brought  these  practices 
with  them  and  the  descendents  of  the  pioneers  adopted 
them  in  self  defense. 

But  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  with  the  change  much 
of  the  old  time  fellowship  and  hospitality  has  departed. 

When  a  "  new  comer"  came  in  he  either  camped 
out,  or  if  the  weather  was  inclement,  some  one  would 
give  him  shelter,  until  a  house  could  be  built.  The  peo- 
ple would  gather  on  a  given  day  and  would  cut,  haul, 
scalp  and  build  a  house,  daub  it,  make  the  boards  and 
cover  it,  put  in  doors  and  build  a  chimney  in  one  or  two 
days  and  the  family  would  move  in. 

This  was  called  "  building  a  house  from  the  stump.'' 


20  The  West. 

If  the  family  were  poor  one  neighbor  would  furnish 
some  bacon,  another  some  meal,  another  some  honey, 
another  a  pair  of  pigs  or  chickens,  and,  in  this  way  the 
family  would  be  "  set  up  to  house  keepin'"  in  about  as 
good  style  as  their  neighbors. 

Every  new  family  was  scanned  and  their  habits, 
talk  and  ways  studied  and  discussed  until  the  neighbor- 
hood settled  down  to  some  sort  of  conviction  as  to  what 
kind  of  folks  the  "  new  comers''  were.  If  they  proved 
to  be  kind,  honest  and  neighborly  the}^  were  accepted 
as  a  part  of  the  community,  and  could  borrow  and  lend 
without  let  or  hindrance;  but,  if  anything  wrong  was 
suspected  concerning  them  they  were  put  under  surveil- 
lance and  kept  at  arms  length  until  they  could  show 
themselves  to  be  above  suspicion. 

Almost  any  kind  of  a  character  was  tolerated  ex- 
cept dishonest  ones.  The  pioneers  to  the  West  were  a 
rigidly  honest  people  and  they  would  not  tolerate  dis- 
honesty or  swindling  in  any  form. 

People  had  no  locks  to  their  doors  in  those  days. 
Sometimes  a  man  would  take  his  family  and  go  away 
into  another  settlement  and  be  away  for  days  and  weeks 
with  no  other  security  for  his  household  goods  than 
a  simple  wooden  door  latch,  "with  the  string  on  the 
outside." 

Stealing  was  a  rare  thing.  Occasionally  there 
would  be  a  dishonest  man  (and  he  was  invariably  a  lazy 
one)  who  would  steal  corn  or  meat,  and  sometimes 
slaughter  a  neighbor's  hog  in  the  woods.  These  mat- 
ters would  be  reported  and  discussed  and  the  honest  men 


Thk  West.  21 

in  the  settlement  would  almost  invariabl}'  settle  on  the 
right  party.  Parties  would  be  organized  to  watch  for 
him  and  they  generally  caught  him.  When  they  had 
caught  him  they  would  guard  him  until  daylight  and 
then  the  men  in  the  settlement  would  be  called  togfether 
and  the  whole  party  would  proceed  with  the  prisoner  to 
the  dense  woods  where  there  were  fallen  logs  on  which 
they  could  sit.  The  prisoner  would  be  taken  some  dis- 
tance away  and  put  under  guard  of  some  of  the  young- 
er men.  The  old  men  would  then  hear  all  that  could 
be  said  or  proven  against  the  offender.  If  the  case  were 
a  very  aggravated  one  they  would  probably  decide  to 
"withe  him"  (whip  him)  and  then  make  him  leave  the 
settlement.  But,  as  a  rule,  they  decided  to  simply  make 
him  leave.  After  the  decision  the  offender  would  be 
brought  up  and  notified  as  to  what  he  must  do.  If  any 
of  his  family  were  sick  they  would  give  him  time  for  the 
sick  one  to  recover. 

If  he  had  no  team,  or  not  enough  to  haul  his  house- 
hold goods,  they  would  furnish  a  team  and  one  or  two 
young  men  to  go  with  him  a  day  or  two  ;  but  he  had  to 
go.  There  was  no  appeal  from  this  solemn  tribunal. 
This  was  the  court  of  first  and  last  resort,  and  I  never 
heard  of  any  man  taking  an  appeal. 

If  there  was  a  man  in  the  neighborhood  who  was 
cruel  to  his  family — more  especially  if  he  beat  his  wife — 
the  matter  would  be  discussed,  facts  obtained,  and  when 
enough  had  been  ascertained  to  justify  it  a  committee 
was  appointed  who  would  go  in  the  dead  of  night  and 
lay  a  bunch  of   hickory  sprouts  at  his  door.     This  was  a 


22  The  West. 

warning  and  the  offender  knew  what  it  meant  and  gen- 
erally "  improved  his  ways.''  If  he  did  not  a  committee 
would  go  at  night,  take  him  out  and  tie  him  up,  and  one 
or  two  men  would  "lint  him,''  or  "  welt  him,"  or  "lap 
the  bud  around  him  "  as  they  called  it.  This  was  almost 
sure  to  have  the  desired  effect.  I  never  heard  of  one  of 
these  men  taking  revenge.  A  man  who  is  cowardly 
enough  to  beat  his  wife  rarely  has  courage  enough  to 
take  revenge  on  a  man. 

There  was  very  little  litigation  in  those  good  old 
days.  Property  was  not  sufficiently  valuable,  as  a  rule, 
to  go  to  law  about ;  and  then  there  was  an  innate  hon- 
esty and  sense  of  justice  amongst  these  grand  old  pion- 
eers that  caused  them  to  obey  the  golden  rule. 

If  they  did  have  differences  they  often  arbitrated 
them.  Each  party  would  choose  a  neighbor  and  these 
two  would  choose  a  third  ;  the  committee  would  meet 
and  hear  both  sides  and  then  go  and  sit  on  a  log  and 
discuss  it.  After  coming  to  an  agreement  they  would 
call  the  parties  to  the  contest  and  announce  their  award 

which  was  generally  a  just  one — and  the  parties  would 

silently  accept  it.  If  the  parties  were  still  disposed  to 
disao-ree  and  be  unneighborly  a  few  neighbors  would 
often  get  together  and  call  upon  them  and  lecture  them 
upon  the  unreasonableness  of  their  differences  and  the 
bad  effect  it  had  on  the  "  settle w^/z/,"  and  would  often 
get  the  parties  to  agree  to  "  make  up."  When  they 
"  made  up  "  they  "  shuck  hands  ''  in  the  presence  of  the 
committee  and  these  settlements  were  usually  religiously 
observed. 


*rHE  West.  23 

Occasionally,  however,  men  would  get  so  incensed 
at  each  other  that  nothing  would  do  but  a  fight.  Under 
such  circumstances  they  would  meet  at  some  designated 
point  in  the  neighborhood,  with  most  of  the  men  pres- 
ent to  see  "fair  play''  and  then  fight  it  out.  These 
fights  were  called  "pitched  battles."  They  did  not 
fight  according  to  the  rules  of  the  "  London  prize  ring," 
nor  the  "  Marquis  of  Queensberry."  Knocking,  kick- 
ing, biting  and  gouging  were  allowed,  and  they  fought 
until  one  or  the  other  said  "  Nuff ''  (enough)  or  "  Take 
him  off."  They  never  used  weapons.  The  man  who 
attempted  to  do  so  was  regarded  as  a  coward  and  he 
was  liable  to  get  a  blow  from  any  one  of  the  bystanders 
upon  the  mere  attempt  to  draw  a  weapon.  Everybody 
was  in  favor  of  a  fair  fight  and  if  a  man  was  getting  the 
worst  of  it  and  his  own  brother  attempted  to  interfere 
he  would  be  sure  to  get  a  blow  from  behind  that  would 
call  his  attention  to  himself  instead  of  his  brother. 

Sometimes  a  man  would  fight,  when  he  knew,  from 
the  size,  strength  and  reputation  of  his  opponent,  that 
he  would  get  whipped  ;  but,  he  would  fight  rather  than 
back  out.  He  would  say  to  his  friends  "I  reckon  I 
can't  whup  him,  but  Til  keep  the  flies  off  uv  him  while 
he's  a  whuppin'  me." 

Some  men  were  notorious  for  raising  a  row  and 
getting  others  into  it  and  then  slipping  out  and  avoiding 
the  fight  themselves.  They  were  good  "  mouth  fight- 
ers,'' but  were  not  worth  a  cent  when  it  came  to  the 
real  "  tug  of  war.'' 

After  a  territorial   organization  was  formed  there 


H  The  West. 

were  "muster  days.''  It  was  necessary  to  keep  a 
trained  militia,  properly  organized  and  armed,  in  order 
to  be  ready  to  meet  the  incursions  of  the  Indians.  There 
were  the  local  musters  and  the  general  musters.  The 
general  musters  were  held  only  once  each  year.  At 
these  musters  there  were  many  trials  of  strength  and 
personal  prowess  in  foot  racing,  jumping,  wrestling  and 
fighting.  Each  "  settlement  "  had  its  champion  jumper, 
runner,  wrestler,  and  fighter.  These  latter  were  called 
"  bullies."  The  champions  of  one  settlement  would  be 
pitted  against  the  champions  of  another,  and,  when  the 
men  were  not  on  parade,  there  would  be  a  contest  of 
some  kind  going  on  almost  constantly. 

As  long  as  they  kept  sober  the  '•  amusements '' 
would  be  confined  to  jumping,  running  and  wrestling ; 
but  when  they  got.  drunk — which  they  often  did,  as 
these  musters  were  generally  held  at  some  still  house — - 
the  bullies  would  be  brought  out,  and,  after  the  usual 
amount  of  blowing  by  the  friends  of  the  "  bullies,"  a 
ring  would  be  formed  and  a  fight  would  occur.  The 
blowing  would  generally  be  in  such  phrases  as  this  : 

*'  I'll  bet  a  hoss,  saddle  and  bridle  that  Bill  Johnson 
can  whup  any  man  that  ever  wore  hair  or  walked 
water!'' 

Which  would  be  answered  by  something  like  this : 

"  I've  got  more  money  than  a  mule  can  pull  on  a 
half  sled,  down  hill  with  snow  on  the  ground,  an'  I'll 
bet  ni}'  pile  that  Butch  Anderson  is  the  best  man  on  top 
of  the  yeth." 

Some  of   these  fights  were,  no  doubt,  terrible  to 


The  West.  25 

witness  ;  but  they  didn't  kill  each  other  as  men  do  now 
with  the  dirk  and  the  deadly  revolver.  They  may  seem 
more  cruel  to  the  sensitive  nerves  of  our  modern  casu- 
ists, but  the  results  were  not  so  bad. 

A  fight  of  this  kind  usually  settled  the  question  as 
to  who  was  the  '' bully  "  of  a  certain  "  deestrict,-' and 
he  rarely  had  to  "  whup  "  the  same  man  a  second  time. 

Brute  force  is  a  bad  method  to  resort  to  for  the 
settlement  of  difficulties,  either  real  or  imaginary,  be- 
tween individuals  or  nations  ;  but  it  is  the  more  unrea- 
sonable when  there  is  nothing  to  settle. 

Appropos  of  this  subject  an  old  Missouri  lawyer, 
who  has  been  a  man  of  prominence  in  Missouri  in  law 
and  politics  for  the  last  half  century,  related  to  me  the 
following  : 

In  the  "  good  old  days  "  a  case  was  being  tried  be- 
fore a  justice  of  the  peace.  The  litigants  had  had  difii- 
culties  growing  out  of  the  close  proximity  of  their  farms 
to  each  other.  Cross  fences,  breachy  cattle  and 
other  such  matters  had  finally  brought  them  into  court 
to  settle  their  disputes.  They  were  very  bitter  against 
each  other,  and,  as  the  trial  progressed,  they  grew  hot- 
ter and  hotter  and  finally  got  to  firing  invectives  at  each 
other  right  before  the  seat  of  justice.  Finally  they  be- 
gan to  "  talk  fight  "  and  one  of  them  said 

"  If  you  can  whip  me  you  can  have  this  matter  your 
own  way.'^ 

The  other  responded  with  a  like  statement  and  at  it 
they  went.  They  were  soon  down  on  the  floor,  rolling 
and  tumbling,  biting   and  gouging,  after  the  fashion  of 


26 


The  West. 


those  days.     The  jury  arose  to  their  feet  and  everything 
was  excitement  and  confusion.     Several  men  shouted 
"Don't  let  'em  fight!"     "  Part  'em!"  "  Part   'em!" 


"LET   'em    fight   it   OUT." 

The  justice  sprang  into  the  midst  of  the  surging 
crowd,  and,  instead  of  "commanding  the  peace,"  as  it 
was  his  duty  to  do,  yelled,  "  Let  'em  alone,  men  ;  let 
'em  fight  it  out ;  if  they  can  settle  it  that  way  it  will  save 
the -costs." 

And  they  "settled  it." 

This  economical  idea  as  to  "  costs  "  does  not  pre- 
vail in  our  justice's  courts  to  any  large  extent  at  the 
present  day. 

While  speaking  of  courts    I  am  reminded  that  in 


The  West.  27 

those  times  the  counties  were  very  large — one  county 
being  as  large  as  a  Congressional , district  is  now.  A 
circuit  judge  would  sit  in  turn  in  three  or  four  of  these 
counties.  Men  who  had  business  in  court  were  often 
compelled  to  go  from  thirty  to  one  hundred  miles. 
Those  who  went  so  far  would  remain  until  the  court 
adjourned,  or  until  their  business  was  disposed  of.  The 
jurors  often  lived  from  fifteen  to  thirty  miles  away. 
Those  who  only  lived  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  would  re- 
turn home  at  night  and  attend  to  their  stock,  take  break- 
fast by  candle  Hght,  and  would  be  back  at  the  county 
seat  by  the  time  court  would  convene  at  9  o'clock,  a.  m. 

A  story  illustrative  of  those  times  is  told  of  one 
Gill  R.  He  lived  on  the  southern  border  of  what  is  now 
Cooper  county,  and  was  on  the  panel  of  the  grand  jury 
for  this  particular  term.  The  grand  jury  had  particular 
instructions  from  the  judge  to  be  in  their  room  at  9 
o'clock,  a.  m. 

One  morning  Gill  R.  did  not  report  until  ten  o'clock. 
The  judge  called  him  up  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  R.  you  are  an  hour  late.  You  understand 
the  rules  of  this  court.  If  you  can  not  give  a  reasonable 
excuse  for  thus  delaying  the  work  of  this  court  I  shall 
fine  you." 

Gill  was  a  great  wit  and  also  stammered.  He  ex- 
cused himself  after  this  fashion  : 

"  Well,  Jedge,  you  k-know  I  live  t-twenty  mile 
away,  and  I  have  to  g-go  home  every  n-night  to  f-feed 
my  s-stalk.  Well,  I  h-hain't  got  but  one  s-shirt  an'  I've 
been  w-wearin'  it  all  the  week  an'  it  got  p-purty  d-dirty. 


28 


The  West. 


Last  n-night  my  ole  'oman  t-thot  she'd  b-better  w-wash 
it,  so  I  went  to  b-bed  an'  Met  her  w-wash  it.  v  This 
m-mornin'  I  had  to  1-lay  abed  'till  she  ironed  it,  and 
w-when  s-she  w-went  to  iron  it  it  w-was  so  r-raoro-ed  she 
g-got  it  so  t-tangled  t-that  I'll  be  dad  rot  if  sh-she 
d-did7i't  have  to  i'-i'eel  it  b-before  s-she  c- coutd onta.ng\e  it!" 


"an'  she  had  to  reel  it." 

This  was  greeted  with  a  burst  of  laughter  from  the 
jury  and  spectators  in  which  the  judge  joined. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  R.''  said  the  judge,  "your  excuse 
is  a  valid  one  ;  take  3^our  place  with  the  grand  jury.'' 

Such  an  original  story  in  those  days  was  worth 
more  than  an  eloquent  appeal.  Everybody  appreciated 
it,  laughed  over   it  and  told  it  when  they  went  home,  so 


The  West.  29 

that,  in  a  few  weeks  as  many  persons  would  know  all  the 
details  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  published  in  a  paper. 

The  attorneys  in  those  days  "  rode  the  circuit'' — 
that  is,  they  would  follow  the  court  from  one  county  to 
another.  There  were  no  stages,  so  that  attorneys 
would  ride  on  horse  back  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
to  court.  They  generally  went  four  or  five  together,  so 
that  the  trip  would  not  be  so  lonesome. 

They  were  a  jolly  set  and  often  played  severe  prac- 
tical jokes  on  each  other. 

There  was  a  law3xr  living  at  B — ville  in  those  days 
who  was  an  original  character.  He  wore  his  hair  long 
and  plaited  it  in  a  queue  and  let  it  hang  down  his  back. 
He  shaved  his  face  perfectly  clean  every  morning,  had 
a  high,  piping  voice,  and  was  a  perfect  terror  to  a  wit- 
ness on  cross  examination.  He  was  original,  witty, 
severe,  tyrannical,  terrific.  Strong  men  grew  speech- 
less when  H.  opened  fire  on  them. 

On  one  of  these  long  trips  to  court  at  Springfield, 
Mo.,  H.  and  three  or  four  other  jolly  fellows  were  to- 
gether. They  were  arguing,  bantering  and  joking  each 
other  all  the  way.  They  had  their  regular  stopping 
places  on  the  way  where  they  were  well  known,  but 
there  was  one  place  where  they  were  accustomed  to  re- 
main over  night  where  the  family  had  moved  away  and 
a  new  family  had  moved  in. 

Just  before  they  got  to  this  place  H.  met  some  one 
he  knew  and  stopped  to  talk.  The  others  rode  on,  and, 
at  the  suggestion  of  one  of  their  number,  decided  to 
play  a  joke  on  H.     They  stopped  at  the  house,  told  the 


30  The  West. 

lady  who  they  were  and  got  permission  to  stay  all  night. 
Then  one  of  them  spoke  to  the  lady  in  a  very  serious 
tone  ;  said  he  : 

"  Madam,  we  have  something  to  tell  you  which  is 
very  disagreeable.  There  is  a  woman  dressed  in  men's 
clothes  who  is  following  us.  We  have  tried  every  way 
that  we  could  to  get  rid  of  her,  but  we  can  not.  We 
do  not  know  what  her  designs  are,  but  we  do  not  think 


"  YOU    NASTY,    STINKIN'    OLD    HUSSY." 

that  they  can  be  otherwise  than  bad.  We  are  married 
men  and  we  do  not  want  this  woman  in  our  company, 
and  we  hope  you  will  not  permit  her  to  remain  here. 
She  is  very  impudent  and  will  insist  that  she  is  not  a 
woman  ;  but  don't  you  believe  her.  Whatever  you  do 
don't  let  her  stay.  She  will  soon  be  here  for  we  left 
her  only  a  few  miles  back." 


The  West.  31 

He  had  scarcely  told  his  story  when  H.  rode  up 
and  alighted.  As  he  came  into  the  house  the  old  lady 
met  him  on  the  front  porch  with  broom  in  hand— 

"  Don't  you  offer  to  come  in  here,  you  nasty,  old 
hussy!" 

"  Why,  madam,  what's  the  matter  ?"  asked  H.  in 
his  piping  voice.  This  voice  was  enough  to  confirm  the 
story  and  she  made  at  him  with  the  broom  : 

'^  I'll  show  you  what's  the  matter,  you  brazen,  im- 
pudent old  baggage.  Get  out  'o  here,  I  say!  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  you  nasty  old  thing. 
You'd  better  take  them  men's  things  off  and  put  on 
your  own  clothes  and  go  to  your  *  man  '  if  3'ou've  got 
one." 

H.  dodged  and  protested  and  the  old  lady  grew 
more  vehement  in  her  denunciations  of  "  the  old  hussy," 
and  pursued  him  with  the  broom.  The  other  lawyers 
were  falling  all  around  the  front  porch  and  splitting 
their  sides  at  the  fun. 

After  they  had  enjoyed  the  matter  to  their  heart's 
content  they  went  out  and  captured  the  broom  and  ex- 
plained to  the  lady  that  it  was  a  joke.  It  took  some 
time  to  convince  her  that  he  was  not  a  woman.  Even 
after  supper  as  they  sat  around  the  fire  and  talked  she 
would  eye  H.  suspiciously  for  awhile  and  then  look  over 
toward  the  broom  as  if  she  would  like  to  "  give  him  a 
swipe  "  anyhow. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Judge  H.  heard  the  last 
of  this  story. 


CHAPTER  II. 

EDUCATION  AND   PIONEER  SCHOOLS. 


DISADVANTAGES  AS  TO  EDUCATION — THE  PIONEER  SCHOOL 
HOUSE — THE  OLD  IRISH  TEACHER  AND  HIS  TERRIBLE  DISCI- 
PLINE— TEXT  BOOKS — EXAMINING  THE  TEACHER — TURNING 
THE   TEACHER   OUT — STIMULANTS — JOE — THE    MAD   TEACHER. 


T  will  be  readily  understood 
that,  in  a  community  so 
new,  so  far  from  the  old 
civilizations,  and  with  a  new 
territorial  organization,  with 
large  counties — as  large  as 
congressional    districts    now 


are — I  say  it  will  be  readily 
surmised  that  the  advantag- 
es as  to  education  were  lim- 
ited. 

The  settlers  themselves 
were  ignorant  as  to  books. 
They  knew  and  thought 
little  of  the  advantages  that  education  confers.  There 
was  little  to  stimulate  the  young  to  study,  because  their 
parents  knew  nothing  of  books  and  of  the  enjoyments 
which  they  bring. 

Ignorant  children  do  not  study  of  their  own  accord, 
as  a  rule.     In   the  matter  of   the    development    of   the 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools.  33 

mind  there  must  always  be  some  one  above  tJie  pupil  ^'\\o 
does  the  drawijig  out.  Hence,  in  a  new  country — where 
education  seemed  to  be  worth  so  little — and  where,  if 
one  were  educated,  his  education  only  served,  in  a  meas- 
ure, to  isolate  him  from  his  fellows — it  is  no  wonder  that 
so  little  attention  was  given  to  the  development  of  the 
mind 

But,  there  was  a  start.  There  are  always  men  in 
a  community,  even  amongst  the  pioneers,  who  know 
something  of  the  advantages  that  accrue  to  one  through 
the  education  of  the  mind.  These  persons,  scattered 
here  and  there  through  the  settlements,  stimulated  their 
fellows,  and,  after  awhile,  they  began  to  build  school 
houses. 

The  first  school  houses  were,  like  the  dwellings  of 
the  settlers,  built  of  logs.  There  would  be  a  meeting, 
and  noses  counted,  a  calculation  made  as  to  the  number 
of  logs  needed,  and  then  each  man  assigned  his  propor- 
tion. After  the  logs  were  on  the  ground,  there  would 
be  a  meeting  to  which  all  would  bring  their  dinners  ; 
the  house  would  be  raised,  the  logs  "scalped,"  boards 
made,  the  roof  put  on  and  "  weighted,"  a  chimney  built 
and,  sometimes,  a  puncheon  floor  laid.  "  Sometimes,'' 
I  say,  for  oftener  there  was  no  floor,  except  the  ground. 
The  school  houses  were  invariably  daubed  with  mud,  a 
half  of  one  log  cut  out  at  a  proper  height  the  full 
length  of  the  house,  in  order  to  admit  light  to  the 
writing  bench.  Over  this  opening  the  school  girls 
would  paste  old  thin  muslin,  or  greased  paper  in  order 
to  admit  the  light  and  still  keep  out  the  air. 


34  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

There  was  never  more  than  a  three  months  school 
during  the  3'ear,  and  the  teachers  were  almost  invariably 
of  the  Irish  nationality. 

The  political  oppressions,  revolutions  and  upheav- 
als in  their  own  unhappy  land  had  driven  many  educated 
men  of  that  nationality  to  this  country.  They  seemed 
to  seek  oblivion  in  the  far  away  new  settlements,  and 
many  of  them  became  teachers.  The  old  Irish  school 
teacher  was  as  much  a  fixture  in  these  new  settlements 
as  the  log  house,  the  rifle  or  the  fort.  Their  methods 
were  crude,  their  text  books  few  and  their  discipline  ter- 
rible. I  have  heard  many  a  tale  from  my  grandparents 
of  the  terrible  whippings  which  these  stern  masters 
used  to  administer  to  the  3^outh  of  those  times. 

If  a  young  man  were  big  enough  to  whip  the  teach- 
er and  resisted  the  proposed  thrashing  he  w^ould  be 
given  his  choice  of  either  taking  the  whipping  or  leaving 
the  school.  So  eager  were  some  of  the  young  men  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  slight  advantages  which  these 
poor  schools  offered  that  they  would  often  submit  to  the 
humiliation  of  being  mounted  on  another  boy's  back 
with  arms  around  his  neck  and  tightly  held  while  the 
teacher  satisfied  his  wrath  and  the  violated  law.  The 
discipline  was  a  mixture  of  that  of  the  British  army  and 
navy  of  that  period,  and  was,  no  doubt,  borrowed  from 
these  two  institutions  of  old  England. 

Beyond  the  spelling  book  and  small  dictionary,  and 
an  arithmetic  of  these  old  times  (in  the  latter  "  Tare  and 
Tret  "  constituted  a  most  important  part)  the  text  books 
were    anything — The    New     Testament,    Bunyan's    Pil- 


Education  and  Pioneer  SchooLvS.  35 

grim's  Progress — anything  that  the  family  might  pos- 
sess. Weem's  Life  of  Washington,  Frankhn,  Marion 
and  other  heroes  of  the  revolution  were  about  the  only 
histories  used.  St.  Charles,  Boone  and  Howard  coun- 
ties (outside  of  St.  Louis)  were  the  first  to  enjoy  any- 
thing like  school  advantages,  beyond  those  named,  for  a 
long  time.  As  new  counties  would  be  laid  out  and  set- 
tled the  inhabitants  would  go  through  the  same  stage 
with  the  log  school  house,  with  three  month's  schooling 
during  the  year,  the  indifferent  text  books  and  the 
sometimes  still  more  indifferent  teacher,  who,  if  he  were 
not  a  married  man,  generally  "boarded  among  the 
scholars.'' 

The  writer  went  to  school  in  the  log  school  house, 
with  the  wooden  chimney  and  only  one-half  the  floor 
laid  with  plank,  with  the  peculiar  long  window  above 
described,  and  afterwards  taught  in  the  same  kind  of  a 
house  and  "boarded  among  the  scholars.'' 

Before  there  was  a  state  and  county  school  fund 
and  a  law  creating  a  county  commissioner  the  Trustees 
would  often  examine  the  teacher  themselves.  These 
examinations  were,  no  doubt,  in  many  instances,  very 
funny. 

There  is  an  old  story  told  that  at  one  of  these  ex- 
aminations, one  of  the  Trustees  asked  the  applicant  if 
the  earth  was  round  or  flat.  He  answered  that  he 
wasn't  sure,  but  he  could  teach  it  either  way.  The  fun- 
niest part  of  it  was  that  they  decided  that  he  sJioiild 
teach  that  it  was  fiat. 

There    was    a   custom  very    common  in  those  old 


36  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

pioneer  days,  which  fortunately  or  unfortunately,  has 
become  obsolete — that  of  turning  the  teacher  out  for  hol- 
idays. Just  a  few  days  before  Christmas  the  boys 
would  begin  to  talk  about  "  having  Christmas  " — enjoy- 
ing the  holidays.  The  teacher  would  almost  certainly 
insist  that  he  couldn't  spare  the  time  and  intended 
teaching  during  all  the  Christmas  days.  As  a  rule  the 
boys  waited  until  the  24th  of  December,  when  a  num- 
ber of  the  larger  ones  would  go  before  daylight,  and 
would  enter  the  school  house,  make  a  fire  and  then  bar 
the  door  with  benches  from  the  inside.  As  the  chil- 
dren came  they  would  be  let  in,  by  removing  the  bench- 
es or  by  being  pulled  through  the  window.  When  the 
teacher  came  he  would  scold  and  threaten,  would  push 
at  the  door,  make  great  feints  of  breaking  it  down  with 
an  improvised  battering  ram,  and  would  often  climb  on 
the  house  and  put  his  coat  over  the  chimney  in  order  to 
smoke  them  out.  The  boys  would  then  cover  the  fire 
with  ashes  in  order  to  stop  its  smoking.  As  a  last  re- 
sort the  teacher  would  come  to  the  door  or  window,  and 
after  giving  the  boys  a  serious  lecture,  would  inform 
them  that  if  they  did  not  intend  to  let  him  teach  he 
would  go  home.  This  would  bring  the  boys  out  and 
after  a  long  chase  the  teacher  would  be  caught,  and 
then,  after  a  short  struggle,  he  would  be  tied  hand  and 
foot. 

The  boys  did  hot  only  demand  "  holidays,"  but  they 
also  wanted  a  treat — apples  certainly  and  candy,  if'  it 
could  be  had — and  sometimes,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
whisky. 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 


37 


If  the  teacher  did  not  yield  they  would  take  him  to 
the  nearest  creek  and  proceed  to  duck  him.  If  ice  were 
on  the  creek  a  hole  would  be  cut  in  it  for  that  purpose. 
The  writer  has  helped  to  ''  turn  out "  many  teachers  and 
has  been  often  "turned  out,''  and  always  enjoyed  it,  and 
when  "turned  out,"  always  treated,  but  never  but  once 
was  he  carried  to  the  creek. 

This  time  there  were  three  or  four  very  rude  boys 


"  THEY  HELD  ME  OVER  A  COLD  LOOKING  HOLE." 

who  demanded  whisky.  I  would  not  yield  and  so  was 
carried  to  the  creek  and  held  over  a  very  cold  looking 
hole  in  the  ice.  Matters  looked  quite  serious.  I  prom- 
ised the  treat  of  candy  and  apples,  but  informed  the 
young  rowdies  that  I  would  be  drowned  before  I  would 
buy  whisky  for  school  children,  and  informed  them  fur- 


38  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

ther  that,  if  they  ducked  me,  I  would  whip  the  crowd, 
one  at  a  time,  with  my  fists  or  with  clubs  afterwards. 
The  large  girls  (who  generally  took  part  in  the  "  turning 
out  ")  here  came  to  the  rescue,  and  with  sticks  and 
stones  beat  their  brothers  away  and  unbound  me.  When 
once  unbound  I  seized  a  big  club  and,  taking  a  position 
on  high  ground  (in  more  senses  than  one)  I  dictated 
terms.  The  terms  were,  candy  and  apples  ;  and  they 
were  accepted. 

This  demand  for  whisky  grew  out  of  the  fact  that 
almost  everybody  in  those  days  had  whisky  at  their 
homes  during  the  Christmas  days.  This  practice  pre- 
vails, to  a  large  extent,  all  over  the  country,  to-day — 
except  that  the  wealthy  keep  wine  instead.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  understand  why  it  is  that  so  many 
people  desire  to  drink  on  Christmas. 

It  is  a  time  which  is  supposed  to  represent  the  birth 
of  Christ ;  therefore  a  man  feels  excused  in  getting 
drunk. 

The  Savior  is  sent  to  redeem  the  world  ;  therefore 
men  put  themselves  in  the  worst  possible  attitude  for 
redemption. 

The  Son  of  God  came  upon  the  earth  with  healing 
in  his  hands  ;  therefore  a  brutal  man  gets  drunk  and 
goes  home  and  beats  his  innocent  and  helpless  wife. 

Another,  while  intoxicated,  sends  a  deadly  bullet 
crashing  through  the  brain  of  his  best  friend,  because 
"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begot- 
ten Son,"  and  so  forth. 

In  short,  Christmas  drinking  and  Christmas  drunk- 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools.  39 

enness  is  the  greatest  contradiction,  and  the  most  inex- 
cusable of  all  drinking. 

The  Christmas  eggnog  is  generally  a  harmless 
affair,  but  it  is  often  the  first  step  toward  the  drunkard's 
hell,  and  therefore  should  have  the  condemnation  of  all 
right  thinking  men  and  women. 

But  I  digress  :  As  I  have  said  the  schools  of  those 
days  were  inferior  to  what  they  are  now.  Their  meth- 
ods were  crude  ;  the  teachers  often  ignorant  and  the 
text  books  few  and  indifferent.  And  yet  the  children 
learned.  Their  greatest  drawback  consisted  in  the  fact 
that  they  were  not  permitted  to  advance. 

If  the  teachers  were  ignorant  (which  was  often  the 
case)  then  the  pupil  would  be  turned  back  as  soon  as  he 
had  mastered  all  that  the  teacher  knew  on  any  given 
subject.     This  was  discouraging. 

Many  funny  things  occurred  in  those  schools.  I 
remember  once  when  teaching  there  was  a  boy  in  the 
class  named  Joe.  Joe  was  an  oddity.  He  looked  odd. 
He  was  as  dull  a  boy  as  I  ever  saw  in  school.  He  was 
"bug  eyed''  and  had  an  enormously  large  upper  lip, 
which  was  always  red.  It  always  had  the  appearance 
of  having  been  recently  chafed  by  the  contact  of  some- 
thing rough  and  irritating.  Joe  had  been  to  school 
many  terms  before  he  came  to  me,  but  he  had  not  yet 
learned  all  of  his  a  b  c's.  He  could  not  tell  b  d  p 
and  q  apart  for  the  life  of  him. 

As  an  evidence  of  just  how  stupid  Joe  was,  there 
was  a  bright,  mischievous  boy  who  went  home  the  same 
road  with  Joe  and  he  used  to  play  the  same  trick  on  Joe 


40  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

every  afternoon.  He  would  get  his  right  hand  full  of 
loose  dirt,  then  going  to  Joe  he  would  say  : 

"Joe  I'll  bet  that  you  can't  hide  a  pin  so  that  I  can 
not  guess  where  it  is  at  three  guesses.'' 

Joe  would  bet,  of  course.  The  other  boy  would 
turn  his  back  while  Joe  would  hide  the  pin.  Then,  after 
facing  each  other,  the  guessing  would  begin : 

"  It's  in  your  vest." 

"No-h." 

"  It's  in  your  shirt.'' 

"No-h." 

''Well  then,  it's  in  your  mouth." 

"  No-h." 

"  Now,  open  your  mouth  and  let  me  see.'' 

Joe  would  innocently  open  his  mouth  and  in  would 
go  the  dirt  out  of  the  other  boy's  right  hand. 

Joe  would  strangle,  sputter,  cough  and  bellow.  He 
would  go  home  and  tell  his  parents  and  tell  me  the  next 
morning,  and  then  suffer  himself  to  be  drawn  into  the 
same  trap  again  in  exactly  the  same  way.  I  gave  the 
other  boy  a  slight  correction  once  or  twace,  but  it  did  no 
good.  The  boy  would  rather  submit  to  correction  than 
lose  the  fun. 

As  I  said,  Joe  would  not  or  could  not  learn.  He 
would  get  over  as  far  as  "baker,''  in  the  old  Webster's 
elementary  spelling  book  and  it  would  get  to  be  such 
hard  pulling  that  I  would  have  to  turn  him  back.  He 
had  an  inordinate  desire  to  go  into  the  second  reader 
with  a  class  in  which  he  had  some  playmates  and  inti- 
mate associates: 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools.  41 

I  had  told  him  once  or  twice  that  he  must  learn  to 
spell  first.  (This  may  not  have  been  the  best  method 
with  such  a   pupil,  but   it   was  the  best   1  knew  then.) 

One  morning  as  Joe  came  in  I  noticed  that  he  had 
a  second  reader  under  his  arm.  He  took  his  seat  with 
the  second  reader  class.  He  found  the  lesson  by  the 
"pictur,"  and  seemed  to  be  intently  studying  it.  I  paid 
no  attention,  but  went  on  with  the  morning's  work  just 
as  if  Joe  were  in  his  proper  place. 

Finally  I  called  the  class  in  the  second  reader.  Joe 
came  up  in  the  middle  of  the  class,  no  doubt  having  a 
sense  of  being  protected  or  backed  up  by  having  some- 
body on  each  side  of  him.  The  class  read  by  para- 
graphs, and  criticised  each  other  in  the  pronunciation  of 
words,  the  observance  ot  punctuation,  and  so  forth, 
turned  my  back,  for  I  was  so  full  that  I  could  scarcely 
refrain  from  exploding.  The  very  sight  of  Joe  always 
had  this  effect  on  me,  and  the  ludicrous  position  in  which 
he  had  placed  himself  almost  broke  down  my  self 
control. 

When  it  came  Joe's  time  to  read  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Read,  next,"  I  said. 

There  was  a  titter  in  the  class  and  then  I  heard  a 
staccattoed  "Umh!" 

•'  Read,  next,"  said  I,  somewhat  louder,  and  there 
was  another  "Umh!"  and  the  class  bursted  into  an 
uncontrollable  roar. 

Joe's  "  Umh  !"  came  as  if  some  one  had  punched 
him  in  the  ribs  suddenly. 

I  looked  around,  in  feigned  surprise. 


42  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

Joe's  face  and  attitude  were  a  study.  He  had  his 
shoulders  humped  up  ;  one  foot  was  off  the  floor  and 
going  through  the  performance  of  scraping  an  imagin- 
ary mosquito  off  the  opposite  shin  ;  his  face  was  awry, 
and  he  was  ahogether  about  as  hidicrous  an  object  as  I 
ever  saw. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Joe?"  I  asked  with 
feigned  surprise. 

"  I'm  a  readin'  in  the  second  reader,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  You  are  ?  well,  why  don't  you  read  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  could  if  I  could  make  out  this  first  word,"  said 
Joe.      The  first  word  was  ''the!"' 

"  Who  told  3^ou  that  you  might  read  in  this  class, 
Joe." 

"  Pap  did." 

"  Your  pap  did  ?     When  did  he  tell  you  ?" 

"  This  mornin'.'' 

"  You  are  sure  of  that,  Joe." 

"Yes  sir,  I  am  ;  for  I  heard  him  when  he  said  it.'' 

"  What  did  your  father  say,  Joe  ?'' 

"He  said  fur  me  to  bring  my  second  reader  to 
school  an'  read  in  this  class." 

"Joe,  I  don't  believe  your  father  said  any  such 
thing,  for  he  knows  you  can  not  even  read  in  the  first 
reader.  I  feel  sure  Joe  that  you  are  telling  me  a  false- 
hood.    Now,  are  you  sure  that  that  is  what  he  said?'' 

"Yes  sir,  (hesitating)  I-I  think  he  did." 

''  Now,  Joe  1  will  give  you  one  more  chance  to  tell 
the  truth.     Are  you  sure-now-that-you-heard-your-father- 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 


43 


tell-you-to-bring-your-second  reader  to  school  and  read 
with  this  class  ?     Be  careful  now." 

Joe  was  in  great  distress.  He  shifted  his  weight 
on  to  the  opposite  leg,  fought  an  imaginary  mosquito 
off  the  other  shin,  shrugged  up  his  shoulders,  walled  up 
his  eyes  and  ran  his  tongue  away  down  to  the  point  of 
his  chin — 


"it  mought  a  been  a  hoss  nickerin'." 
"What   do   you    say  Joe?     Did    you    hear    your 

father  say  that?'' 

Joe  made   a  profound  struggle,  heaved  up  another 

"  Umh,"  and  answered  : 

"Well,  sir,  I  heard  something   it  mought  a  been  a 

hoss  nickerin'!" 


44  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

This  was  too  much.  I  couldn't  restore  order  for 
ten  minutes.  Indeed  I  don't  think  that  I  "  came  to 
order  ''  much  before  that  time  myself. 

A  few  years  before  the  war  I  was  riding  through 
one  of  the  sparsely  settled  border  counties,  looking  for  a 
point  for  a  summer  school — having  exhausted  the  appro- 
priation and  the  willingness  to  personal  sacrifice  with  a 
long  winter  term  in  another  Qounty.  Along  in  the  after- 
noon I  came  by  a  log  school  house,  and  before  I  got  to 
it,  I  could  hear  the  teacher's  voice, 

"  Git  yer  lessons!" 

He  seemed  very  harsh  or  angry. 

I  got  down  and  went  in. 

The  teacher  was  a  strapping  big  fellow  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  without  shoes,  and  with  a  foot  as  big  as  a  fiddle 
box.  I  introduced  myself  but  didn't  get  much  in  re- 
turn except  a  request  or  order  to  **  take  a  seat.''  I  had 
not  more  than  sat  down  when  he  raised  a  great  long 
hickory  sprout,  brought  it  down  its  full  length  on  the 
floor  and  yelled, 

"  Git  yer  lessons!" 

The  children  seemed  to  be  very  much  afraid  and 
stuck  very  close  to  their  books. 

I  remained  a  half  hour  or  more,  and  at  least  a  half 
dozen  times  he  brought  down  his  sprout  and  yelled, 

"  Git  yer  lessons,  I  tell  ye!" 

I  got  tired  and  bade  him  good  afternoon  and 
went  on. 

I  stopped  in  the  neighborhood  for  the  night,  and, 
after  getting  acquainted  with  my  host,  I  told  him  of  hav- 


Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 


45 


ing  stopped  at  the  school  house,  and  of  the  seeming 
wrath  of  the  teacher.  The  old  man  laughed  long  and 
loud  : 

"Why,'' said  he,  "that's  Bob.  Musick  ;  he's  mad- 
der'n  a  wet  hen.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  Jementally,  I 
reckon  he  is  mad,  shore  enough.  You  see,  he  went  down 
to  the  crick 
at  p  1  a y- 
time  y  e  s- 
terday  an' 
went  in 
swimmin' 
an'  the 
big  boys 
slipped  a- 
roun'  a  n' 
stole  h  i  s 
clo's.  He 
couldn't  find  'em 
Well,  he  worked 
roun'  through  the  bresh  to 
Jake  Petcrses,  where  he  boards 
and  cum  up  at  the  back  of 
field  a  yellin'  for  Jake  to  bi 
him  some  clo's.   .  Ole  Peterses' 

dogs  heard  him  and  lit  out  '"an  he  clim  a  tree." 
atter  him  an'  he  clim  a  tree.  Ole  Miss  Peters  and 
the  two  big  gals  heard  the  racket  and  went  out  an'  got 
a  peep  at  him  afore  they  found  out  what  the  matter 
>va.s.     Atter  a  while  he  got  some   clo's  an'  went  in,  but 


46  Education  and  Pioneer  Schools. 

they  say  he  wouldn't  eat  a  bite  las'  night  and  scacely 
an3'thing  this  mornin',  an'  he's  jest  swore  vengeance 
agin'  the  boys.  They're  hiding  out  an'  skippin'  roun' 
now.  I'm  reely  afeard  he'll  hurt  somebody,  if  some 
one  don't  take  a  gun  to  'im  and  make  'im  shet  up. 
Oh,  Peters  says  the  feller's  jest  a'most  ravin'  dees- 
tracted.  He  haint  found  his  shoes  yit,  an'  that's  why 
he  was  barfooted  to-day.  The}'  aint  no  other  shoes  in 
the  settlement  that  he  can  git  them  live  calves  o'  his'n 
into.  I  feel  kind  o'  sorry  fur  the  big  footed  fool,  but 
he'll  hev  to  larn  to  take  a  joke  if  he  stays  in  these 
parts." 

The  boys'  trick  and  the  teacher's  discomfiture  was 
regarded,  all  over  the  neighborhood,  as  a  good  joke. 
So  it  was ;  but  it  was  rough. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES. 

COUNTRY     DANCES     AND     THE      DANCERS — FEMALE     CRITICS- 
THREE   STORIES   OP  THREE   GENERATIONS   OF   MEN. 


HE  parties  in  the 
good  old  pioneer 
da3's  were  general- 
ly held  at  night. 
One  of  the  "  set- 
tlers" would  build  a 
new  house,  or  barn; 
clear  a  piece  of 
new  ground  or 
have  a  log  rolling 
or  tobacco  strip- 
ping. 

On  such  occa- 
sions the  "women 
folks  "  would  have 
a  quilt  in  the 
frames  and  ready  to  be  quilted  ;  the  men  would  raise 
the  house  or  barn,  or  do  whatever  was  to  be  done,  and 
at  noon  there  would  be  some  jumping,  wrestling  and 
foot  racing.  The  women  and  girls  would  put  in  their 
time  quilting  and  preparing  dinner. 


48  Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties. 

These  dinners  were  something  to  be  remembered. 
They  had  everything  in  general,  but  chicken  pie  and 
"  pound  cake  "  in  particular.  These  two  dishes  consti- 
tuted the  rare  and  the  good  at  one  of  these  gatherings. 
I  should  add  pumpkin  pie  also.  He  who  has  never 
eaten  the  good,  old  fashioned  spiced  pumpkin  pie  which 
was  prepared  at  one  of  these  old  fashioned  gatherings 
has  not  tasted  of  all  the  good  things  that  are  made  for 
man. 

After  the  "raising"  was  completed  the  young  men 
would  repair  to  the  house  in  the  dusk  of  evening.  If  the 
quilt  was  done  it  would  be  taken  out  of  the  franies ;  if 
not  it  would  be  wound  up — that  is  lifted  to  the  ceiling 
or  "  loft,"  and  then  securely  tied  overhead.  If  there 
was  a  bed  in  the  "  big  room  "  it  would  be  taken  down 
and  removed.  The  fiddlers  would  get  ready  while 
everybody  ate  a  hasty  supper.  This  evening  meal  was 
enjoyed  most  b}'  the  old  folks,  for  the  younger  ones 
would  be  so  elated  with  the  prospect  of  what  wag  to 
come  that  they  could  not  eat.  The  "  fiddlers  "  (there 
were  no  violinists  in  those  days)  would  take  their  places 
in  the  corner  and  begin  to  "  tune  up."  Four  young  men 
would  seek  partners  and  take  their  places  for  a  cotillion. 
Then  the  fiddlers  would  strike  up  a  familiar  strain  and 
the  dancing  would  begin. 

And  it  was  dancing. 

None  of  your  gliding  and  sliding  to  and  fro,  a  little 
hugging  here  and  there,  touching  the  tips  of  fingers  and 
bowing  and  scraping.  Oh,  no.  This  was  dancing. 
The  music  was  such  as  "  Fishers,''  "  Durangs,"  "  Rick- 


Oi.D  Time  Dances  and  Parties.  49 

ett's"  and  "  The  Sailor's"  hornpipes,  "The  Arkansas 
Traveler,"  "Cotton  Eyed  Joe,"  "Nancy  Rowland," 
"Great  big  'taters  in  sandy  land,"  "Pouring  soapsuds 
over  the  fence,"  "  The  snow  bird  on  the  ash  bank,"  "  The 
Route,"  "  The  Rye  Straw,"  "  Run,  nigger,  run,"  etc., 
Sometimes  one  of  the  fiddlers  would  act  as  "  prompter," 
or,  if  he  could  not,  then  some  one  else  would  be  selected. 
The  following  constituted  some  of  the  figures : 
"Manners  to  your  pardners ;"  "balance  all;" 
"promenade  eight;"  "swing  your  pardners;"  "first 
four  forward  ;"  "  first  lady  cross  over  ;"  "  three  to  one  ;" 
"gentleman  dance ;"  "swing  opposite  lady;"  "swing 
your  pardner ;"  "four  hands  round;"  "back  again;" 
"  balance  to  your  places  ;"  "  balance  all ;"  "  promenade 
eight  "  (all).  This  figure  would  be  varied  by  having 
"second  lady  cross  over,"  until  they  went  entirely 
around.  After  this  figure  had  been  exhausted  others 
would  be  called  such  as  "  ladies  to  the  center,  cross 
hands  and  swing  half  'round  ;"  "  change  hands  and  back 
again,"  "  swing  and  ketch  your  pardners  " — the  ladies 
here  with  one  hand  joined  to  the  lady  opposite,  would 
"  ketch  their  pardners  "  with  the  other  as  they  passed 
and  they  would  go  swinging  around  with  the  men  on 
the  outside,  like  an  immense  pair  of  winding  blades,  or 
a  cross.  The  men  being  on  the  outside  would  have  to 
"  kiver  more  ground  "  in  the  process  of  swinging  and 
many  active  young  fellows,  with  pants  in  boots,  would 
cut  some  "  high  didos "  as  they  went  around.  The 
"balance  all  "  and  "promenade  eight,"  however,  gave 
those  fellows  a  chance  to  "come  out  strong."     In  the 


50  Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties. 

"  balance  all  "  they  would  "  cut  the  pigeon  wing  "  and 
the  "  double  shuffle,"  and  in  promenading  a  big  fellow 
with  a  small  partner  would  often  catch  her  b}''  the  right 
hand  with  his  left,  seize  her  around  the  waist  with  his 
right,  lift  her  to  his  right  hip  and  go  careering  around 
like  a  wild  horse  in  a  muddy  lot.  The  girls  would 
generally  affect  to  get  angry  at  such  familiarity  and  you 
would  hear  such  expressions  as  this  : 

"  Now,  John,  you've  jest  got  to  behave  yourself,  or 
I  won't  dance  another  bit  ;"  but  she  generally  contin- 
ued dancing,  nevertheless. 

This  dancing  would  be  continued  into  the  "  wee 
sma'  hours  " — a  new  set  taking  the  place  of  the  one  just 
finished,  and  scarcely  any  getting  to  dance  as  much  as 
they  desired,  unless  it  would  be  an  unusually  pretty  girl, 
who  had  many  admirers. 

Such  a  one  was  often  in  demand — dancing,  if  she 
would,  almost  every  set,  to  the  envy  of  the  less  favored 
ones. 

"  And  were  there  pretty  girls  in  those  days  ?" 

Yes,  there  were  pretty  ones  in  that  locality.  The 
human  face  is  pretty  only  by  comparison.  There  is 
always  some  woman,  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
earth,  who  is  prettier  than  her  neighbors.  There  is 
always  a  woman  with  a  better  eye,  more  regular  feat- 
ures, a  better  shaped  and  more  tempting  mouth,  a  small- 
er foot  and  a  better  figure  than  the  others  ;  and  she 
usually  has  better  taste.  She  can  make  more  out  of  a 
pink  ribbon  and  a  flower — out  of  the  few  little  things 
in  color  which  the  winds  of   chance   blow   in  her    way. 


Old  Time  Dance.s  and  Pakties. 


51 


With  these  and  the  flowers  she  bedecks  herself  in  a 
simple  and  charming  way,  and  she  invariably  catches 
the  eyes  of  the  men.  These  are  the  women  that  men 
fall  in  love  with  and  rave  about  at  first  sight.  They  are 
not  always  the  best  but   they  generally  have  pick  and 


'JEST  LOOK  AT  SALLY  SLEEPER    HOW   SHE  TWISTS  AND  WIGGLES 

HERSELF." 

choice  amongst  the  men.  But  as  to  the  beauty — well 
they  were  pretty  by  comparison,  as  I  said.  I  do  not 
know  how  one  of  those  rural  beauties  would  look  in  a 
modern  Boston,  St.  Louis,  or  Louisville  setting.  Not 
well,  I  fear.     They  were  not  educated.     They  were  not 


52  Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties. 

cultured.  They  knew  nothing  of  "  society,"  etiquette 
books,  etc.  Few  things  of  the  human  kind,  male  or  fe- 
male, that  are  uneducated,  are  pretty.  Men  and  women 
like  the  domesticated  fruits  and  shrubs,  grow  prettier  as 
they  are  more  and  more  cultivated. 

"And  better?" 

Alas  !  no.  Unfortunately,  no.  The  purest  women 
that  ever  lived  were  these  same  women. 

The  women  who  stood  around  the  walls  and 
watched  the  dancers  would  criticise  those  in  the  dance 
just  as  women  criticise  each  other  under  similar  circum- 
stances now. 

"Jest  look  at  Sally  Sleeper  how  she  twists  and  wig- 
gles when  she's  a  dancin\  She's  jest  a  puttin'  on  airs. 
An3'body  knows  that's  onnateral."  And,  "  Look  at 
Cyntha  Smiley,  how  she's  a  leanin'  on  Joe  Blessin'. 
She's  jest  dead  in  love  with  him.  Look  how  she  looks 
up  into  his  face  and  rolls  her  eyes  like  a  dyin'  calf.  The 
way  she's  a  takin'  on  jest  makes  me  sick;  an*  I'll  lay 
that  he  don't  keer  a  cent  for  her  ;''  and  so  on,  just  as  it 
occurs  now,  modified  only  by  the  education  and  talent 
of  the  critic. 

Women  have  done  this  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world  and  will  continue  to  do  so  until  they  are  called 
from  their  criticisms  by  the  blast  of  Gabriel's  trumpet  at 
the  "  crack  o'  doom."  I  presume  the  wild  Indians  in 
the  mountains,  and  the  negro  women  in  Africa  criticise 
each  other. 

There  has  never  been  but  one  woman  who  was  not 
criticised — dear,  old  mother  Eve.     How  happy  she  must 


Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties.  53 

have  been  in  having  no  one  to  make  remarks  on  the 
way  she  wore  her  lig  leaf  and  "  wiggled  herself  when 
she  walked!" 

I  met  with  three  men  on  a  train  about  ten  years 
ago.  They  were  all  old  Missourians  and  aged  eighty, 
sixty  and  forty.  They  had  all  seen  more  or  less  of  pio- 
neer life,  and,  of  course,  the  conversation  turned  upon 
the  "  good  old  days."  They  were  talking  about  the  old 
time  dances  when  the  man  of  eighty  said : 

"  Yes,  they  put  on  a  heap  of  airs  at  their  dances  in 
these  times.  They  didn't  use  to  do  it  when  I  was  a 
young  man  sixty  year  ago. 

I  recollect  when  I  was  a  young  man  about  sixty 
year  ago  or  more  we  used  to  wear  buckskin  clothes  and 
buckskin  moccasins.  After  awhile  we  got  to  raising 
sheep  there  in  Howard  county  and  our  mothers  got  to 
making  brown  jeans  suits  for  us  for  Sundays,  weddin's 
and  parties. 

There  was  a  new  settlement  up  in  Randolph  county, 
and  some  of  us  boys  that  had  new  jeans  clothes,  con- 
cluded to  go  up  there  to  a  party.  We  put  on  our  new 
clothes  and  rode  nearly  all  day  to  get  to  the  place  in 
the  new  settlement  where  we  heard  the  party  was  goin' 
to  be.  When  we  got  there  we  found  all  the  young  fel- 
lows in  the  new  settlement  still  wearin'  their  buckskins. 
We  were  dandies!  We  jest  cut  a  swath.  The  gals 
jest  tuck  to  us  like  a  young  kitten  to  a  warm  jam,  and 
them  fellers  in  their  buckskin  begun  to  git  all  fired  mad 
an'  we  soon  found  that  we  had  to  let  up  a  little  or  we 
would  get  a  lickin'.     Oh,  they  jest  considered  that  we 


54  Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties. 

was  dressed  too  fine  for  anything  and  that  we  was  jest  a 
puttin'  on  airs  and  they  wasn't  agoin'  to  stand  it.  I  tell 
you  we  had  to  be  powerful  mute  the  balance  of  the 
night  or  weM  a  cotch  it  shore. 

About  the  same  time  I  was  makin'  me  a  fine  pair 
of  buckskin  moccasins  to  wear  to  a  weddin'  that  was 
goin'  to  come  off  in  the  neighborhood.  I  jest  got  'em 
finished  the  day  the  weddin  was  to  come  off  and  sot  'em 
out  on  the  kitchen  steps  to  dry.  Pd  used  ruther  green 
hide  in  makin'  em,  for  I  didn't  have  time  to  dress  the 
hide  as  it  ort  to  have  been  dressed.  Well,  as  I  said, 
they  was  purt}'  wet  an'  I  sot  'em  out  in  the  sun  to  dry, 
an'  when  I  come  to  git  'em  they  wasn't  thar.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  make  of  it  and  begun  to  look  around  and 
inquire,  when  lo  !  and  behold  our  ole  houn'  attracted  my 
attention.  We  had  one  of  those  ole,  lop-eared,  deer 
houn's,  that  was  everlasten'ly  hungry.  He  would  eat 
anything  on  top  o'  dirt.  I've  seed  that  ole  houn'  poke 
his  nose  into  a  pot  o'  grease  when  the  grease  was  hot 
enough  to  burn  anything  an'  he'd  lap  that  grease  an* 
howl  jest  like  somebody  was  a  beatin'  uv  him.  Well, 
sir,  I  spied  this  ole  houn'  a  walkin'  off  side  wa3's,  with 
his  sides  potted  out  sorter  onnateral,  an'  I  begun  to  sus- 
picion where  my  moccasins  had  went.  I  cotch  ole  Drum 
an'  tuck  him  to  the  stable  and  tied  a  rope  aroun'  his 
hind  legs  an'  drawed  it  over  a  jiste  and  pulled  him  up 
'till  he  didn't  tetch  the  ground  nowhere  ;  an'  I  got  a 
swingle  tree  and  let  into  that  dog  like  a  house  afire.  I 
jest  lambaisted  him  for  all  that  was  out.  Atter  awhile 
he  seemed  to  git  sick,  an'  begun  to  shrug  his  shoulders 


Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties.  55 

an'  kind  o'  heave.  I  kept  a  falHn  onto  him  hke  dead 
timber  in  new  groun'  on  a  windy  day,  and  dad  blame 
me  if  he  didn't  throw  up  them  moccasins  ! 

I  tuck  'em  to  the  house  and  looked  'em  over  and 
found  that  he'd  warped  'em  a  leetle ;  but,  he  hadn't 
chawed  no  holes  in  'em,  an'  I  cleaned  'em  up  and 
straightened  'em  out  and  wore  'em  to  the  weddin' ! 
Yes,  sir,  wore  'em  and  danced  in  'em,  but  every  time  I 
tho't  of  that  dod  blasted  ole  houn'  I  could  hardly  keep 
from  kickin'  my  partner!" 

The  man  of  sixty  then  took  the  stand  : 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  was  a  young  man  forty  year 
ago  or  more  we  used  to  walk  to  ch"urch.  The  preachin' 
in  them  days  was  mostly  in  the  woods,  as  there  was  no 
church  buildin's.  The  gals  most  alwa3's  went  barefoot- 
ed at  home  when  the  weather  wasn't  cold,  and  when 
they  went  to  meetin'  they'd  take  their  shoes  and  stock- 
ins'  under  their  arms  'till  they'd  get  nearly  to  church, 
an'  then  they'd  stop  at  some  branch  or  hole  o'  water 
and  wash  their  feet  an'  put  their  shoes  and  stockin's  on. 
They  done  this  in  the  first  place  because  it  hurt  their 
feet  to  keep  their  shoes  on  all  day,  as  they  wasn't  used 
to  it;  an'  then  shoes  wasn't  such  an  easy  thing  to  get 
and  they  didn't  want  to  wear  'em  out. 

Well,  long  about  that  time  I  tuck  two  neighbor 
gals  to  a  dance  one  night.  The  weather  was  gittin  cool 
an'  they  wore  their  shoes  and  stockin's  all  the  way.  It 
had  rained  the  day  before  an'  when  we  come  to  a  branch 
that  was  up  we  didn't  hardly  know  what  to   do.     There 


56 


Old  Timk  Dances  and  Parties. 


wasn't  any    bridge  nor    any   log,  nor    nothin'.     But  we 
must  go  to  the  party. 

The  gals  proposed  that  we  all  take  off  our  shoes 
an'  wade.  I  wouldn't  hear  to  their  wadin',  so  I  told  'em 
if  they'd  ride  on  my  back   I'd  take  off    my  shoes   and 


"op  all  the  kickin'  and  squealin'  you   ever  heard  we 

had  it  thar." 

socks  and  carry  'em  over,  one  at  a  time.  They  was  as 
full  of  fun  as  mule  colts,  an'  after  laughin'  awhile  they 
said  they'd  do  it  jest  for  the  fun  o'  the  thing. 

I  pulled  off  my  shoes  an'  socks,  rolled  up  my  britch- 
es above  my  knees    (the  water  wasn't  quite  knee  deep) 


Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties.  57 

an'  stooped  down  an'  the  oldest  one  of  the  gals  got  on 
my  back,  cotch  me  Voun'  the  neck  with  her  arms  an' 
'round  the  sides  with  her  knees,  an'  I  waded  over. 

Of  all  the  kickin'  an'  squealin'  that  you  ever  heard 
we  had  it  thar.  When  I  got  into  the  deepest  of  the 
water  I  kind  o'  wobbled  a  little,  as  if  I  was  about  to  fall, 
an'  she'd  clamp  me  around  the  sides  with  her  knees  an' 
squeal  an'  it  tickled  me  so  an'  made  me  feel  so  curis  that 
I'll  be  dod  blasted  if  I  could  hardly  keep  from  kickin' 
up  right  thar  in  the  water !  But  we  got  over  all  safe 
an'  sound  and  went  on  to  the  party.  Nothin'  would 
stop  young  folks  in  them  days  when  thar  was  fun  ahead. 

Now,  some  people  might  think  that  these  gals  was 
not  what  they'd  ought  to  have  been  ;  but  let  me  tell  you 
that  they  was  as  true  blue  as  any  young  women  that 
ever  lived.  They  would  take  a  rifle  and  help  defend 
their  homes  if  necessary  an'  the  man  who  would  use  any 
insultin'  talk  to  one  of  'em  would  git  a  rap  in  the  mouth 
he  wouldn't  forgit  very  soon." 

The  man  of  forty  then  told  his  story  : 

"  More  than  twenty  years  ago  (It  is  more  than 
thirty,  now. — Author.)  I  used  to  go  to  the  dancing  par- 
ties. I  was  a  wild  young  imp  then  and  loved  fun,  and  I 
would  ride  any  distance  to  a  dance. 

Some  young  fellows  had  invited  me  to  a  party  out 
in  "  The  Hills,"  as  that  part  of  the  country  was  called  ; 
and,  as  girls  were  scarce,  they  insisted  on  my  bringing 
my  partner.  Well,  I  made  arrangements  with  a  young 
girl,  about  eighteen,  named  Jennie  Rayburn.  She  had 
auburn  hair   and  was  as    freckled  as  a  turkey  egg,  but 


58  Old  Time  DancEvS  and  Parties. 

she  had  more  mischief  in  her  to  the  square  yard  than 
any  girl  I  ever  saw.  When  the  evening  for  the  party 
came  I  went  by  after  her  and  when  her  mother  found 
out  what  was  up  she  declared  that  Jennie  shouldn't  go. 
Jennie  got  her  mad  up  and  declared  she  would.  The 
old  lady  sent  one  of  the  boys  out  and  had  all  the  horses 
turned  out,  and,  for  a  time,  it  seemed  as  if  the  game  was 
blocked.  But  it's  a  hard  matter  to  keep  bo3-s  and  girls 
from  having  their  fun  if  they  are  determined,  and  so  it 
turned  out  in  this  case. 

I  whispered  to  Jennie, 

"  Why  can't  3'ou  ride  behind  me?" 

She  flushed  for  a  moment,  stepped  to  the  door  of 
an  adjoining  room  and,  looking  at  me  intently,  nodded 
her  head  and  disappeared.  In  a  few  minutes  there  was 
a  tap  on  the  window,  near  which  I  was  sitting,  from  the 
outside,  and  I  got  up  and  went  out.  Jennie  was  there 
all  rigged  out  for  the  dance, 

"  Hurry,"  said  she,  "  for,  if  mamma  sees  us  she'll 
raise  a  yell." 

We  darted  through  the  gate,  I  hastily  mounted  and 
Jennie  jumped  on  the  "stile  block"  and  in  a  twinkling 
she  was  on  behind.  As  we  disappeared  around  a  curve 
in  the  road  we  heard  the  old  lady's  voice, 

"  Never  mind,  Missy,  you'll  ketch  it  for  this.'' 

Jennie  laughed  a  low,  triumphant  snicker  and 
cau"-ht  me  around  the  waist  with  both  hands.  I  yelled, 
for  I  couldn't  stand  it  for  a  girl  to  touch  me  on  the 
sides. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?'' Jennie  asked. 


Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties. 


59 


"  YouVe  ticklin'  me;  catch  higher  up,''  I  answered, 
still  yelling  and  almost  jmnping  off. 

"Why,  do  you  want  me  to  choke  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Choke  me,  or  do  anything  ;  but,  for  heaven's  sake 
don't  touch  me  on  the  side  !'' 


"l    COULD    HEAR    THE    ROOTS     OP     OLD     BESS'S     TAIL    BEGIN    TO 

CRACK." 

"  You're  a  big  goose,''  said  Jennie. 

And  in  this  way,  3^elling  and  laughing,  we  went  on 
— both  so  hilarious  over  our  victory  and  the  prospects 
before  us  that  we  could  scarcely'  contain  ourselves. 


6o  Old  Time  .  Dances  and  Parties. 

After  a  while  we  came  to  an  immensely  long,  steep 
hill  which  led  down  to  a  branch,  and  there  was  another 
hill  just  like  it  on  the  other  side.  After  we  had  started 
down,  both  of  us  began  to  slip  forward,  and,  almost  be- 
fore I  knew  it,  I  felt  as  if  we  were  going  over  the  old 
mare's  head,  I  turned  the  mare  cross  ways  of  the  road 
and  stopped.  I  was  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do.  I 
was  riding  a  large,  fine  mare  of  my  father's,  and  she  had 
a  tail  that  almost  touched  the  ground.  A  bright  idea 
struck  me.  I  told  Jennie  to  reach  back  and  hand  me 
old  Bess's  tail.  Jennie  scrambled  back,  and  reached 
for  the  tail.  The  old  mare  begun  to  squat,  but,  with  a 
few  words  from  me,  she  quieted  down  and,  pretty  soon, 
Jennie  handed  me  the  tail.  I  made  her  put  it  over  her 
shoulder  and  I  pulled  it  over  mine  and  took  the  end  of 
it  in  my  left  hand.  We  went  on  down  the  hill  then  in 
perfect  safety  and  in  some  of  the  steeper  places,  1  swear 
I  could  hear  the  roots  of  old  Bess's  tail  beofin  to  crack, 
and  I  was  really  afraid  that  we  would  pull  it  out ! 
When  we  went  up  the  hill  on  the  other  side  we  still  held 
on  to  the  tail  and,  before  we  got  to  the  top,  Jennie 
slipped  back  into  the  bow  formed  by  the  bending  of  the 
tail.  When  we  got  to  the  top  she  clambered  up  on  to 
her  seat  again  and  we  went  on  to  the  party  in  triumph. 
We  had  a  royal  time  and,  as  we  came  back,  we  repeat- 
ed our  process  of  the  night  before  at  the  hill.  I  dumped 
Jennie  off  at  her  home,  and  don't  think  she  ever 
"  ketched  ''  anything  worse  than  her  mother's  jaw.'' 

"And  did  you  kiss  her?''  asked  the  octogenarian. 


Old  Time  Dances  and  Parties.  6i 

''Union  Depot!    Kansas    City,"  shouted  the  porter, 
and  as  the  party  broke  up,  I  heard  the  man  of  forty  say, 
"  Oh,  may  be  I  didn't ;  Yum!  Yum!  Yum!" 


CHAPTER   IV. 

CIVILIZATION  AND   PIONEER  WEDDINGS. 

GOOD  FEI^LOWSHIP  AND  HOSPITALITY — EFFECTS  OF  CIV- 
ILIZATION— DANCING  PARTIES — A  CONSPIRACY  AND  WHAT 
CAME  OF  IT — Tom's  appetite  works  HAVOC — WEDDINGS— 
THE   preacher's  two  STORIES. 


T  is  something  remarkable 
what  good  fellowship  ex- 
isted between  neighbors 
in  those  good  old  days. 
I  have  spoken  of  the 
clearings,  the  log  rollings, 
house  and  barn  raisings, 
and  tobacco  strippings. 
Every  settler  felt  it  to  be 
his  duty  to  go  to  his 
neis"hbor's  assistance  on 
all  such  occasions,  and  he 
very  reasonably  expected  a  return,  in  like  assistance, 
from  his  neighbor,  when  he  had  anything  to  be  done 
which  required  the  help  of  others.  I  have  known 
men  to  go  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  to  one  of  those  gath- 
erings and  then  ride  home  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening, 
unless  they  remained  to  the  dance  which  almost  invaria- 
bly followed  the  work  of  the  day. 

Nobodv  had  locks  on  their  doors  and  it  was  a  most 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  63 

common  occurrence  for  a  neighbor  who  desired  to  bor- 
row meal,  meat,  tools  or  anything  which  he  wanted,  on 
finding  the  family  away  from  home,  to  enter,  take  what 
he  desired  and  inform  the  family  of  what  he  had  done 
the  next  time  he  saw  any  of  them. 

Here  is  a  most  ludicrous  incident  illustrative  of  this 
perfect  confidence  which  existed  between  neighbors. 
The  incident  is  true,  for  the  writer  knows  the  names  of 
both  parties  to  it. 

A  pioneer  was  awakened  one  night  by  some  one 
entering  his  house,  and  who  seemed  to  be  fumbling- 
around  as  if  in  search  of  something. 

"Hello  !  who  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"  It's  me,  John,"  answered  the  intruder,  revealing 
the  familiar  voice  of  a  near  neighbor,  "I'm  out  o'  to- 
backer ;  ain't  had  a  chaw  sense  dinner,  an'  I  jest 
couldn't  go  to  sleep  without  some.  I  tho't,  mebbe,  I 
might  find  your  britches  without  waking  3^011  up/' 

"  They  are  over  thar  on  a  cheer  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,''  said  John  who  turned  over  and  was  snoring  so 
loud  in  a  few  minutes  that  he  didn't  hear  the  "  good 
night  "  of  his  neighbor  as  he  went  away  with  enough 
"  tobacker  "  to  do  him  a  day  or  two. 

This  perfect  confidence  between  neighbors  does  not 
now  exist  in  the  older  settled  or  so-called  more  civilized 
parts  of  our  country.  It  is  civiHzation  that  makes  locks 
and  bolts  necessar}^  It  is  education  which  makes  man 
suspect  his  fellow  man ;  in  other  words,  it  is  the  crowd- 
ed condition  of  the  older  communities — where  educa- 
tion, refinement    and  knowledge    have  entered — where 


64  Civilization-  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

wealth  has  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  the  few,  and 
want  and  desij-e  have  come  to  the  many,  that  the  bur- 
glar, the  midnight  prowler,  the  tramp  and  the  dangerous 
men  generally  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  put  bolts  and 
bars  en  our  doors. 

In  the  dancing  parties,  before  described,  everybody 
took  a  part — the  old,  the  middle  aged,  and  even  the 
young  children.  It  was  a  common  thing,  however,  for 
the  grown  up  young  men  and  women  to  monopolize 
most  of  this  exhilarating  enjoyment. 

I  remember  that,  at  about  the  time  that  I  was  four- 
teen years  of  age,  there  arose  a  feeling  of  great  indigna- 
tion and  resentment  amongst  the  young  boys  against 
the  "grown  up  chaps,"  for  occupying  the  floor  so  much 
at  the  parties,  and  more  especially  on  account  of  the  fact 
that  they  occupied  the  time  of  the  grown  young  ladies 
when  not  dancing,  so  that  we  could  not  secure  them  for 
partners  when  we  danced.  This  forced  us  to  dance 
with  the  little  girls  which  we  did  not  like  to  do. 

If  there  is  anything  that  a  big  boy  likes  it  is  to  gain 
the  attentions  and  smiles  of  a  grown  3'oung  lady  ;  and  if 
there  is  anything  which  seems  to  bore  a  grown  young 
lad}^  more  than  another  it  is  to  be  compelled,  out  of  cour- 
tesy or  friendship  to  the  family,  to  lavish  attentions 
and  smiles  on  a  big  boy.  Young  ladies  naturally  like 
3'oung  men — the  fellows  with  beards  and  moustaches. 
This  has,  no  doubt,  been  observed  by  the  reader. 

We  protested  against  this  unwarranted  abuse  of 
power,  by  the  young  men ;  but  they  laughed  at  us, 
called  us  trundle  bed  mihtia   and  other  harrowing  nick- 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  65 

names,  which  increased  our  anger  but  did  not  reHeve 
our  wants.  The  matter  grew  so  bad  that  we  became 
satisfied  that  there  was  a  combination — a  sort  of  con- 
spiracy or  trust — against  us  and  we  cudgeled  our  brains 
to  find  some  means  by  which   to  break  the  combination. 

We  finally  settled  on  a  plan.  Our  plan  was  the  re- 
sult of  our  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  all  the  girls,  large 
and  small,  loved  candy. 

Candy  was  a  scarce  article  in  those  days  and,  If  I 
remember  aright,  was  quite  costly.  It  was  something 
which. was  not  often  seen,  and  when  seen,  it  was 
grabbed  and  eaten  with  a  greedy  relish  by  the  big  girls. 

At  a  large  tobacco  stripping,  which  was  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  the  greatest  dance  of  the  season,  "  our  set '' 
got  together  at  noon  and  formed  our  plans.  Two  of 
our  number  were  to  secretly  slip  away  during  the  after- 
noon, mount  their  horses  and  ride  five  miles  to  the 
county  seat  and  procure  about  three  pounds  of  candy 
and  "  kisses,"  and — a  quart  of  whisky!  This  latter  we 
deemed  necessary  to  bring  our  courage  up  to  the  point 
of  making  the  grand  assault  all  along  the  enemy's  lines. 
For  the  purpose  of  the  purchase  of  these  articles  each 
"trundle  bed  militiaman"  put  in  his  share  of  money. 
Of  the  two  who  were  delegated  to  this  important  and 
delicate  service  one  was  the  son  of  a  widow  woman  and 
would  not  therefore  be  whipped  for  his  absence ;  the 
other  was  a  queer  compound  of  humanity  named  Tom. 

Tom  was  eighteen  or  nineteen  3'ears  old,  but  was 
beardless  and,  not  being  able  to  reach  up  into  the  set 
above,  had,  by  the  laws  of    gravitation,  fallen  back  into 


66  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

our  set.  You  will  see  these  fellows  everywhere  in  all 
grades  and  conditions  of  society.  From  some  cause  or 
another  they  can  not  enter  the  class  to  which  their  age 
entitles  them  and  they  drop  back  and  run  with  boys 
three  or  four  years  younger  than  themselves.  They  are 
social  Ishmaelites  who  are  abandoned,  and  often  no  one 
could  explain  why. 

Tom  always  had  his  appetite  with  him.  He  was  a 
walking  allegory  of  hunger.  I  never  saw  Tom  when  he 
could  not  eat.  I  have  seen  him  eat  through  two  or 
three  tables  at  a  log  rolling ;  and,  after  doing,  so,  he 
could  get  up  and  walk  around  the  house  and  "  shake  his 
dinner  down,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  then  eat  a  dozen 
apples.  It  was  currently  believed  in  the  neighborhood 
that  Tom's  legs  were  hollow ! 

Well,  these  messengers  slipped  away  and  there  be- 
ing so  many  to  do  the  work,  they  were  not  missed.  Af- 
ter a  few  hours  we  peered  anxiously  through  the  cracks 
of  the  barn,  watching  for  their  return.  There  had  been 
a  solemn  agreement  made  that  we  were  not  to  give  any 
"big  girP'  any  candy  until  she  had  promised  to  dance 
with  us.  We  were  exulting  over  the  fact  that  we  would 
surely  win  a  great  victory  and  that,  for  once,  we  would 
not  be  horned  off  by  the  larger  cattle. 

Dusk  came  on  and  they  did  not  return.  The  work 
of  the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  old  men  were 
"bulking  down"  the  tobacco  and  the  small  boys  (our 
set)  were  carrying  it  to  them.  The  young  men  re- 
paired to  the  house,  took  the  quilt  out  of  the  frames,  or 
wound  it  up,  removed  the  bed  and   other   things  that  of- 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  WeddinGvS.  67 

fered  obstructions  to  a  full  enjoyment  of  the  evening, 
and  prepared  for  the  dance. 

Our  w^ork  finished  we  sent  a  part  of  our  number 
down  the  road  with  the  hope  of  meeting  Jim  and  Tom. 
But  they  came  not.  We  grew  anxious.  What  could 
have  happened?  More  than  time  enough  had  elapsed 
for  their  return.     Why  did  they  not  come  ? 

The  music  struck  up  and  I  left  the  boys  in  the  3'ard^ 
still  in  serious  consultation',  and  went  into  the  house. 
There  was  a  set  on  the  floor,  the  music  was  excellent, 
everybody  was  fresh  and  in  a  great  flow  of  spirits  and 
the  enjoyment  was  great. 

Music  always  had  a  peculiar  and  wonderful  influ- 
ence over  me.  I  never  hear  good  music  without  feeling 
that  I  am  possessed  with  wings !  From  the  great  de- 
pression and  heart-ache  under  which  I  had  been  labor- 
ing in  consequence  of  the  non-return  of  our  messengers 
there  had  succeeded  a  pleasant  reaction.  The  music 
had  caused  it.  I  was  standing  by  the  door,  tappino-  one 
heel  on  the  floor,  keeping  time  to  the  music,  and  feeling 
that,  as  the  candy  had  not  come,  I  might  as  well  secure  a 
partner  and  go  in  in  the  next  set  and  thereby  break  the 
compact. 

A  neighbor  boy  came  and  stood  in  the  moonlight, 
just  outside  the  door  and  beckoned  me  to  come  out.  I 
was  spell  bound  by  the  music,  and  the  exhilarating 
dance  and  did  not  move.     I  asked, 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Come  out  here,''  said  he,  with  a  gesture  by  which 
he  seemed  to  intend  to  move  me. 


68  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?"  I  asked  again,  still  be- 
ing unable  to  get  out  of  the  current  of  the  music  which 
enthralled  me. 

"  Come  out  here  and  I'll  tell  you!"  he  insisted,  still 
gesticulating  vehemently. 

Thinking  there  might  be  news,  I  went  out. 

"  What's  up?"  I  asked,  as  we  walked  around  the 
house  tow^ard  the  front  gate. 

"  Wait  and  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he,  still  leading  on 
toward  the  gate. 

Arriving  at  the  front  gate  we  found  our  set,  grouped 
together,  and,  standing  a  little  apart,  was  Jim  whittling 
on  a  stick,  and  near  him  was  the  tall  and  imposing  form 
of  Tom.  Tom  was  tall,  a  little  stooped  and  of  a  very 
"  yaller  "  complexion.  The  moon  was  shining  brightly, 
and  the  figures  were  as  distinctly  outlined,  as  motion- 
less and  as  silent  as  a  grouping  of  statuary.  There  was 
an  air  of  glumness  which  hung  over  the  group  that 
made  one  almost  afraid  to  speak.  I  saw  at  once  that 
something  was  wrong.     I  managed  to  ask, 

"  What's  the  matter  boys?" 

The  boy  who  had  called  me  out  then  spoke : 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Tom  has  gone  and  drunk  up 
all  the  whisky  and  then  eat  all  the  candy  ?" 

Great  Scott !  could  this  be  true  ? 

"  Is  that  so,  Tom?"  I  managed  to  inquire,  after  I 
had  swallowed  my  heart  about  the  third  time. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Tom  was  an  inveterate  stam- 
merer and  nearly  alwa3's  prefaced  what  he  was  going  to 
say  by  saying — "  b-b-by  goney." 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  69 

"  Is  that  so,  Tom  ?'' 

"  T-t-t-hat's  w-w-hat  they  s-say?''  Tom  answered. 

"Well,  what  do  yozi  say?"  I  asked  with  some 
anger. 

"  I-I-I  g-g"-ess  it's  so,"  said  Tom  with  humiliation. 

In  all  my  life  I  never  saw  a  more  dependent,  humil- 
iated and  miserable  looking  object.  He  was  a  very 
monument  of  despair.  He  actually  looked  hungiy!  I 
knew  why  the  boys  had  sent  for  me.  I  generally  did 
the  talking  for  the  crowd.  They  ivaiited  vie  to  expirss 
their  sentiments^  and  I  did.  I  turned  myself  loose  on 
Tom.  I  denounced  him  as  a  dog,  a  glutton,  and  all  the 
mean  things  that  my  limited  vocabulary  could  furnish. 
I  "  cussed  him  up  one  side  and  down  the  other."  I  was 
safe  in  doing  so  then  ;  but,  if  Tom  had  had  me  away 
from  that  crowd  he  would  have  spiked  my  guns  in  short 
order.     He  was  physically  able  to  do  it. 

I  then  turned  to  Jim : 

"  How  much  candy  did  you  buy  ?''  I  asked. 

"  Three  potcnds,'"  y\w\  answered. 

"  Well,  why  did  you  let  him  eat  it  ?" 

"Well,  Tom  drank  all  the  whisky,"  said  Jim,  "an' 
got  drunk,  an'  he  first  ate  all  the  candy  he  had  an'  then 
he  kept  ridin'  up  and  takin'  out  of  my  overcoat  pockets 
what  I  had.  We  was  a  laughin'  and  tearin'  around  and 
hittin'  each  other  an'  I  didn't  hardly  think  about  it  until 
it  was  all  gone." 

There  was  a  pause.  Tom  still  stood  humped  up, 
in  his  deeply  humiliated  position,  looking  as  if  it  were  a 
question  as  to  whether  he  would  drop  through  the  earth 


70 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 


or  qui-etly  dissolve.     I  broke  the  silence  again  by  asking" 
in  great  desperation, 

"  Well     Tom,   haven't  you    got  any  of    the   candy 
left?'' 


"l-I-i'VE   G-GOT    PL-PL-PLENTY    OF   THE    R-R-READIN'S   LEFT." 

Tom  Straightened  himself  up  and  there  came  a 
gleam  of  partial  relief  over  his  countenance,  as  he 
answered : 

"N-no,  I  hain't  got   no    c-candy,  b-b-but,  b-b-by  go- 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  71 

ney,  it  a-a-ain't  as  b-bad  as  you  th-th-think  f-for — 
I-I-I've  g-got  pl-pl-ple7tty  of  the  r-r-readui's  lejff'' 

He  here  ran  his  fingers  into  his  vest  pocket  and 
produced  a  handful  of  the  verses  of  poetry  which,  in 
those  days,  were  wrapped  around  the  candy  kisses. 
We  indignantly  refused  to  take  any  of  the  '■'readin'sy 

Tom  promised  that,  if  we  would  not  abuse  him  any 
more,  he  would  pay  us  our  money  back  ;  and  he  did, 
though  it  took  him  nearly  a  year  to  do  it. 

Tom  was  a  great  hunter  and  a  splendid  shot  and 
he  could  track  game  almost  by  the  scent.  When  Tom 
went  hunting  there  was  sure  to  be  fresh  meat  in  the 
house.  He  went  to  California  and  the  last  time  I  heard 
of  him  a  friend — one  of  "  our  set  " — met  him  dragging 
a  grizzly  bear  down  a  mountain. 

"And  did  they  get  married  in  those  old  times  ?'' 

Yes,  reader,  more  than  to-day  ;  that  is  the  propor- 
tion of  marriages  to  the  marriageable  population  was 
greater  than  to-day — and  the  number  w^ho  lived  to  be 
old  bachelors  and  old  maids  was  very  few. 

It  did  not  take  money  to  marry  in  those  da^^s.  If 
they  only  loved,  that  was  enough.  They  trusted  to 
Providence  for  the  rest.  Young  men  and  women  mar- 
ried when  neither  had  a  dollar. 

A  piece  of  land  would  be  given  them  by  either  h"s 
or  her  parents;  or,  if  the}'* had  none  to  give,  then  the 
young  man  would  settle  on  a  piece  of  Government  land, 
trusting  to  be  able  to  enter  it  in  time  ;  a  house  raising 
would  be  had  and  with  the  scanty  start  in  housekeeping 


72  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

utensils  which   parents    and    relatives    would  give  they 
would  "  set  up  housekeeping." 

This  was  the  ''  love  in  a  cottage  "  which  we  have 
all  read  about,  and  which  few  of  those  who  read  this 
could  really  appreciate  or  even  tolerate.  Such  a  life 
could  only  be  appreciated  by  those  whose  manner  of 
life  had  prepared  them  to  so  live. 

But  they  loved  each  other,  no  doubt,  as  dearly  as 
those  do  who  have  been  more  fortunate  in  opportunities, 
wealth,  education  and  endowed  in  all  the  good  things 
which  are  presumed  to  make  life  worth  living. 

There  was  more  virtue  amongst  men  and  women 
than  there  is  now  ;  and  such  a  thing  as  a  man  running 
off  with  another  man's  wife,  or  entering  into  his  house 
and  alienating  the  affections  of  his  wife  from  him  and 
destroying  his  domestic  peace,  was  unheard  of.  The 
intrigues,  the  jealousies,  the  hatreds,  the  scorn,  the  lies 
and  the  scandals  amongst  the  educated  and  wealthy 
"  upper  ten  "  in  our  modern  society  were  unknown 
then. 

"  Well,  then,  do  riches,  education,  society  and  all 
the  goodly  endowments,  which  wealth  and  opportunity 
bring,  tend  to  make  men  and  women  happier  and  to 
better  prepare  them  for  a  safe  entrance  into  Heaven  ?" 

It  depends  on  how  we  use  these  things.  The  op- 
portunities for  doing  good  and  being  good,  and  for  set- 
ting good,  pure  and  noble  examples  for  others,  increase 
and  multiply,  as  wealth  and  education  broaden  our 
sphere  ;  but,  alas!  how  few  make  good  use  of  such  op- 
portunities I 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  73 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  when  you  and  I  are 
called  upon  to  ''  Come  up  Higher,"  dear  reader,  we 
shall  find  many  who  were  poor  and  humble  here,  whose 
opportunities  were  few,  but  who  humbly  and  honestly 
did  the  best  they  could,  according  to  their  light,  occup}- 
ing  high  places  ;  and  that  we  shall  miss  many  who, 
while  they  always  had  the  best  places  here,  utterly 
neglected  and  failed  to  secure  seats  in  the  Everlasting 
Kingdom. 

''Then  you  think  it  safer  to  remain  poor  than  be 
rich  and  risk  the  consequences  ?" 

I  think  it  better  to  be  rich  and  use  it  and  the  oppor- 
tunities it  brings,  well.  But,  if  3^ou  think  you  could  not 
withstand  the  strain,  then  you  had  better  remain  poor 
with  me.  Contentment,  in  reasonable  poverty,  is  a 
very  happy  and  a  reasonably  safe  lot. 

"And  were  the  brides  in  those  old  times  pretty?'' 
Yes,  always  pretty  ;  pretty  as  they  are  now.  Did 
my  reader  ever  see  a  woman  who  was  not  pretty  on  the 
day  she  was  married?  I  never  did.  They  all  have  the 
same  matchless  complexion ;  the  same  soft,  sparkling 
eye,  the  same  drooping  lashes  and  modest  demeanor, 
and  always  seeming  to  know  what  is  the  correct  thing 
to  do  at  any  hitch  in  the  ceremony,  or  at  the  happen 
ing  of  any  accident  or  any  unlocked  for  occurrence. 
Aye,  a  woman  is  always  at  her  best  on  the  day  she  gets 
married. 

1  never  saw  a  woman  get  married  who  I  thought 
was  selling  herself  for  money  ;  but  1  imagine  that  she 
would  not  look  pretty.     It  will  be  surmised  that   I  have 


74  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

not,  therefore,  seen  many  "  weddings  in  high  life." 

That  is  true.     I  have  not. 

The  weddings  in  the  old  pioneer  days  were  great 
affairs.  A  runner  was  sent  on  horseback,  many  days 
before,  to  invite  the  neighbors.  This  invitation  often 
extended  over  a  large  area  of  country.  When  the  wed- 
dmg  day  came  the  neighbors  came,  men,  women,  and 
children.  The  ceremony  being  over  the  dinner  was 
ready.  The  elders  came  hrst,  the  30ung  men  and 
women  next,  the  children  last— for  there  were  often 
enough  for  four  or  five  tables.  At  night  the  dance,  and 
the  courting  and  the  foundation  for  more  weddings. 

These  weddings  were  solemn  affairs,  for  those 
people  looked  upon  this  great  step  in  life  as  being 
freighted  with  great  responsibilities.  It  was  not  often 
that  anything  ludicrous  occurred.  I  have  heard  of  a 
few.  A  prominent  minister — a  great  man  in  the  relig- 
ious denomination  to  which  he  belongs,  and  one  of  the 
brainiest,  purest  and  best  men  I  ever  knew,  and  who  in 
his  younger  days  was  identified  with  the  old  pioneers — 
told  me  the  following: 

"  I  had  just  returned  from  college  forty  years  ago 
and  began  to  preach.  Although  college  bred  I  was  yet 
green,  as  a  preacher,  and,  I  think,  about  as  bashful  a 
young  man  as  ever  lived.  In  order  the  better  to  get  at 
the  principles  as  we  expounded  them,  I  travelled  with  a 
great  revivalist — Brother  H.,  that  I  might  hear  him 
preach  and  take  a  part  occasionally  so  as  to  better  pre- 
pare me  for  the  life  of  a  preacher.  Brother  H.  was  a 
great  man  amongst   the  people.     He  was  a   strong  man 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings.  75 

naturally,  and  wielded  great  influence  as  an  orator  and 
an  exhorter. 

We  had  been  holding  a  protracted  meetmg  over  in 
Illinois.  That  was  also  a  newly  settled  country  and  its 
population  w^as  much  like  that  of  Missouri. 

There  were  many  additions  to  the  church,  and  final- 
ly the  meeting  closed.  Our  meeting  was  in  a  small 
town  and  on  the  day  it  ceased  a  messenger  came  saying 
that  there  was  a  couple  w^ho  wished  to  be  married. 
They  had  intended  to  be  married  a  week  hence,  but  as 
they  were  anxious  to  be  married  by  "the  big  preach- 
er," they  had  decided  to  have  it  come  off  at  once  as 
Brother  H,  nnd  I  were  to  leave  that  morning.  Brother 
H.  took  me  along. 

We  found  the  family  of  the  bride  living  in  a  house 
which  h^ad  been  built  for  a  hotel.  We  w^ere  invited  into 
the  parlor  which  was  the  room  that  had  been  the  office 
of  the  hotel.  The  mother  of  the  bride  came  in.  She 
was  a  large  woman,  with  a  firm  set  mouth  and  a  veiy 
commanding,  bossy  mien.  I  was  afraid  of  her  the 
moment  I  saw  her.  She  eyed  me  very  sharply  for 
awhile  and  then  asked  : 

"  Are  3'ou  a  married  man  ?" 

I  answered  that  I  was  not. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  she,  and  added,  "  I  want  you 
to  walk  down  with  one  of  my  gals." 

I  assented,  and  ordering  me  to  follow  her  she  went 
up  a  steep  and  narrow  flight  of  stairs.  When  we  ar- 
rived at  the  top  we  were  in  a  long  hall  with  rooms  on 
either  side.      She  led  the  wav   down    this  hall  until  she 


76  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

got  opposite  a  certain  room,  the  door  of  which  she 
opened  ;  then,  motioning  me  to  approach,  she  put  her 
hand  between  my  shoulders  and  Hterally  sho\'ed  me  in, 
saying  as  she  did  so, 

"There,  they  are  in  there!''  and  then  she  shut  the 
door  and  disappeared. 

This  was  all  the  introduction  I  had.  I  found  my- 
self confronting  the  bridegroom,  who  was  a  great,  big, 
hulk  of  a  fellow,  and  three  or  four  young  girls — one  of 
whom,  from  her  attire  I  recosfnized  as  the  bride — all  of 
whom  were  engaged  in  the  very  embarassing  task  of 
putting  very  small  gloves  on  very  large  hands.  They 
looked  abashed  ;  I  certainly  felt  so.  I  finally  stam- 
mered out  that  "  I  believe  I  am  to  walk  down  with  one 
of  the  young  ladies,"  whereupon  the  one  nearest  to  me 
sidled  over  and  I  offered  her  my  arm,  which  she  took. 
Everybody  stood  in  confusion  and  I  finally  said  "  I 
guess  we  might  as  well  go  down  if  you  are  ready." 
At  this  there  was  a  sort  of  general  move,  and  knowing 
that  the  young  lady  and  I  should  go  first,  I  promptly 
took  the  lead.  The  awkward  bridegroom,  with  his 
bride  on  his  arm,  seemed  to  think  that  they  ought  to  be 
in  the  lead  and  made  several  desperate  attempts  to  pass 
me  in  the  hall  and  on  the  stairway,  but  I  managed,  by 
skillful  maneuvering,  to  keep  ahead.  Arriving  in  the 
parlor  the  young  lady  and  I  separated  to  the  right  and 
left  and  faced  each  other,  which  brought  the  bride  and 
groom  in  the  proper  position  in  front  of  the  preacher, 
who  had  taken  a  position  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room  when  he  heard  us  scrambling  down  stairs. 


ClVIUZATION    AND    PlONEER   WEDDINGS. 


77 


The  ceremony  was  soon  ended,  and  when  the  short 
congratulations  and  kissing  were  over,  the  old  lady 
rushed  up  to  me  and  said  in  a  sharp,  loud  tone  : 

"  I  tho't  I  told  you  to  walk  down  with  my  darter, 
Samantha !" 


"l     tho't     I     TOLD     YOU     TO     WALK     DOWN     WITH    MY    DARTER, 

SAMANTHA." 

"  Well,  didn't  I?"  I  asked  in  confusion. 

"  No,  you  didn't.  That  was  'Manda  Brown  you 
walked  down  with!  I  never  seed  such  a  goose  as  you 
are!" 

I  do  not  think  that  I  was  ever  so  confused,  before 
or  since,  in  my  whole  life.  I  was  as  red  as  a  beet,  my 
head  swam,  things  turned  'round   and  'round,  my  mouth 


78  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

got  dry  and  I  was  almost  blind.  You  could  have  pushed 
me  over  with  a  straw. 

I  could  see  that  Brother  H.  was  ready  to  burst 
with  merriment,  and,  as  soon  as  we  got  away,  he  began 
to  laugh  and  repeat  what  the  old  lady  had  said. 

As  we  would  ride  along  during  the  da}',  when  the 
conversation  w^ould  lag,  he  would  break  out. 

"  I  tho't  I  told  you  to  walk  down  with  my  darter, 
Samantha  !"  and  then  he  would  make  the  woods  ring 
with  laughter. 

When  we  would  stop  for  dinner  or  over  night 
Brother  H.  was  sure  to  describe  the  wedding  scene,  re- 
peat the  old  lady's  sharp  reproof  of  myself  and  my  con- 
fused and  bashful  response,  and  describe  my  meek  and 
humble  appearance,  magnifying  everything — for  he  was 
an  inimitable  actor — to  the  great  delight  of  the  jolly 
people  whom  we  met,  and  to  my  utter  confusion.  It 
really  got  so  that  I  was  afraid  to  stop  anywhere. 

The  repetitions  of  the  story  with  the  varied  des- 
criptions of  my  awkward  confusion  worried  and  plagued 
me  beyond  description.     But  I  was  destined  to  get  even. 

We  finally  held  a  protracted  meeting  near  Roche- 
port,  in  Boone  county,  Missouri.  I  was  opening  the 
meetings  by  reading  and  prayer,  and,  occasionally,  add- 
ing a  word  by  way  of  exhortation  after  Brother  H, 
would  get  through  ;  and,  for  a  bashful  young  man,  was 
getting  along  very  well,  except  at  night.  As  we  would 
go  to  a  new  place  almost  every  night — that  country  con- 
taining many  of  our  denomination — I  had  to  sit  and  hear 
Brother  H.  repeat  that  same  old  story. 


Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddincs.  79 

Right  ill  the  midst  of  our  meeting  Brother  H.  had 
a  call  to  marry  a  couple  in  the  neighborhood — a  widow- 
er and  an  old  maid.  The}'  had  decided  to  have  the 
weddingf  with  a  few  witnesses  in  the  forenoon.  I  was 
almost  afraid  to  go — fearing  that  Brother  H.  would 
manage  to  get  me  into  trouble  again  ;  but  I  was  Brother 
H.'s  Sancho  Panza  and  must  go. 

When  we  arrived  we  found  the  widower  to  be  a 
man  of  about  fifty.  He  was  one  of  those  little,  red, 
"  sawed  off,"  bow  legged  and  frisky  fellows.  His  face 
was  as  red  as  a  gobbler's  snout  ;  he  was  bald-headed 
— the  only  hair  he  had  being  a  red  wisp  which  ran 
around  his  head  on  a  level  with  his  ears,  and  it  looked 
like  corn  silks  fastened  to  a  string  and  tied  around  his 
head. 

It  was  evident  that  the  widower  had  taken  some- 
thing stronger  than  water,  in  order  to  bolster  up  his 
courage  for  the  second  trying  ordeal  of  his  life. 

When  we  got  into  the  house  and  everybody  seemed 
ready  for  the  ceremony,  it  turned  out  that  the  old  maid 
was  parching  coffee  in  the  kitchen  and  couldn't  be  per- 
suaded to  leave  it  until  it  was  browned,  as  she  feared  it 
would  burn.  Several  trips  were  made  to  the  kitchen  by 
different  members  of  the  family  and  by  the  bridegroom, 
but  no  one  could  persuade  this  female  Casabianca  to  de- 
sert her  post  until  the  coffee  was  browned.  The  pause 
was  very  awkward,  but  she  came  finally — removing  a 
large  cook  apron  and  throwing  it  aside  as  she  ap- 
proached. She  had  not  put  on  any  unusual  dress  for 
the  occasion,  and,  although  this  was  the  first  and,  per- 


8o  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

haps,  the  only  time  she  was  ever  married,  she   treated 
it  as  a  sort  of  a  matter  of  every  day  business. 

They  finally  stood  up.  Brother  H.  had  a  fashion 
of  putting  his  hands  up  before  him  and  joining  his  fin- 
gers and  thumbs  and  praying  a  very  pretty  prayer  be- 
fore he  said  the  marriage  ceremony  proper.  He  did  so 
on  this  occasion ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  prayer  ended,  the 
widower,  thinking  the  ceremony  was  over,  made  a  dive 
at  the  bride  to  kiss  her.  She,  probably  never  having 
been  kissed  before,  tried  to  play  the  giddy,  bashful  girl, 
and  ducked.  The  widower  was  not  going  to  be  cheated, 
so  he  went  down  after  her  face — she  dodging  and  duck- 
ing while  the  widower's  face  grew  redder  and  redder. 
Several  times  his  lips  came  in  contact  with  her  hair,  and 
once  or  twice  he  had  her  head  under  his  arm,  and  it  looked 
as  if  victor}'  was  about  to  perch  upon  his  scarlet  banner, 
but  the  giddy  old  maid  would  adroitly  foil  him.  Here 
they  had  it,  'round  and  'round,  up  and  down,  when  final- 
ly she  broke  away  and  made  for  the  kitchen,  he  after 
her. 

All  this  time  Brother  H.  had  stood  with  his  fingers 
and  thumbs  joined,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  watching 
the  confused  scramble  after  a  kiss,  being  so  utterly  con- 
fused that  he  could  not  call  a  halt  nor  make  any  sort  of 
explanation.  I  remember  that  I  was  so  convulsed  that 
I  crammed  my  handkerchief  in  my  mouth  and  fell  face 
foremost  on  a  feather  bed  which  was  in  the  room.  As 
the  old  maid  started  for  the  kitchen  with  the  widower  in 
hot  pursuit  Brother  H.  recovered  his  speech  and  bawled 
after  them  : 


CIVII.IZATION    AND    PlONEER   WEDDINGS. 


8l 


"  Ah-h-h-h!     Come  back  ;  you  are  not  married  !" 

In  a  short  time  the  widower  returned,  leading  the 

old  maid  captive,  and  Brother  H.  finished  the  ceremony. 

As  soon  as  he  had  done  so  the   widower  made  another 

dive,  the  blushing  bride  ducked,  there  was  another  con- 


r— TT— TT    ' 


"AH-H-H  !   COME  BACK  ;  YOU  ARE  NOT  MARRIED  !" 

fused  scramble,  twisting,  diving,  ducking,  dodging,  and 
they  went  out  at  the  door  toward  the  kitchen  again  in  a 
winding,  whirling,  confi.ised  mass,  the  old  widower's 
head  bobbing  up  and  down  like  a  toy  balloon  in  a  shift- 
ing wind.  When  they  reached  the  kitchen  we  could 
hear    the  rattling   and  ringing  of  tongs,  shovels,    pots. 


82  Civilization  and  Pioneer  Weddings. 

pans  and  kettles,  as  the}'  were  being  turned  over  or 
knocked  down  in  the  scramble.  Finally  the  noise 
ceased,  and  there  came  a  low,  sobbing  sound,  oft  re- 
peated, like  the  wash  of  a  wave  against  a  muddy  shore, 
interspersed  with  an  occasional  sharp  sound,  like  rip- 
ping a  yard  of  heavy  muslin.  The  old  maid  had 
yielded  and  the  widower  was  just  drinking  kisses. 

Brother  H.  and  I  took  our  departure.  As  soon  as 
we  were  out  of  ear  shot  of  the  house  I  looked  at  him 
and,  putting  my  hands  together  before  me,  I  exclaimed  : 

"Ah-h-h  !     Come  back  ;  you  are  not  married!" 

Brother  H.  reddened  visibly,  and,  after  laughing 
heartily,  he  said  : 

"  Look  here,  Brother  P.  I  guess  I  have  worried 
you  enough  about  the  old  lady's  rebuke  over  in  Illinois. 
Now,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do;  if  you  will  agree 
not  to  tell  this  I  will  not  tell  that  story  on  you  again."  I 
was  glad  to  make  the  agreement,  for  I  couldn't  tell  a 
story  as  well  as  Brother  H.,  and  so  we  kept  our  word. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PECULIARITIES  OF   PIONEER   PEOPLE. 

INFLUENCE  OP  EDUCATION  ON  THE  CONFORMATION  OF 
THE  body;  some  specimens — STORY  OF  THE  OLD  LINEN 
COAT  AND  THE  MASONIC  MARCH — COL.  JACK'S  STORY  OP  HIS 
ONLY    LOVE. 


HE  peculiarities  of  an  un- 
educated people  in  a  new 
country  are  shown  in  the 
size  of  their  feet  and  hands, 
the  expression  of  their 
faces,  the  fit  of  their 
clothing,  and  their  gener- 
al awkwardness. 

There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  contact  of  people  in 
large  cities,  the  growth 
of  wealth,  the  advantages  of  education  and  all  the  help- 
ful things  which  come  of  a  higher  civilization  tend  to 
make  the  shapes  of  their  bodies  more  symmetrical  and 
beautiful,  their  hands  and  feet  smaller,  to  improve  their 
taste  as  to  the  combination  of  colors,  and  the  fit  of  their 
clothing,  and  also  to  make  their  heads  larger. 
Does  it  make  them  happier  ? 

Perhaps  it  does.  It  improves  taste  and  gives  a 
keener  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  and  the  enjoyable  in 
music,  books,  the  theater,  the  sermon — in  everything. 


84  Pkculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 

Does  it  make  them  better? 

Positively,  no,  I  could  mention  a  great  many  of 
the  sins  and  evil  practices  which  are  committed  and  in 
vogue  in  our  larger  cities  which  are  unknown  amongst 
the  uneducated  classes  in  our  rural  districts;  and  which, 
it'  told  to  them,  would  either  not  be  believed  or  would  be 
a  n:iost  shocking  revelation. 

What  more  awkward  picture  could  we  have  than 
that  of  a  great  big,  twenty  years  old  country  boy,  on  circus 
day,  with  his  big  hands  and  feet,  his  pants  too  short  and 
the  third  dorsal  vertebra  definitely  located  b}'  the  back 
buttons  on  his  coat ;  with  his  long,  carrotty  hair  and  the 
frosty,  gosling  fuzz  on  the  angles  of  his  jaws  and  the  cor- 
ners of  his  chin,  the  scarlet  cheeks  and  the  white  around 
his  mouth, indicating  the  necessity  of  an  anthebnintic,  hold 
ing  by  the  hand  a  little  hump  shouldered  girl,  with  dress 
too  short,  large  feet,  high  cheek  bones,  sweaty  hands, 
broad  hips,  full  bust,  last  yearns  hat,  and  awkward  as  a 
30ung  cow  ;  both  eating  gingerbread  and  gazing,  with 
their  poor  hearts  in  their  throats,  at  the  picture  of  the 
wallapns  on  the  top  of  the  center  pole,  with  pale,  ex- 
pressionless, gravy  eyes — both  stopping  occasionally  to 
dig  the  impacted  gingerbread  out  of  the  vaults  of  their 
mouths  with  their  index  fingers  and  then  sucking  the 
fingers  ;  and  squeezing  hands  and  working  their  toes, 
and  throbbing  and  pulsating — two  great  big  "hunks'' 
of  solid,  unmixed  bliss. 

Who  says  that  they  are  not  enjoying  themselves  ? 

When  they  get  inside  that  big  fellow  will  laugh  at 
the  stale  jokes  of  the  clown  (vintage  of   1840)  and  open 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People.  85 

that  immense  mouth  so   wide   that  one  will  instinctively 
move  away  from  him,  for  fear  of  falling  in. 

Contrast  them  with  a  couple  at  the  opera  in  one  of 
our  large  cities :  The  symmetrical  forms,  the  small 
hands  and  feet,  the  educated  and  easy  airs,  his  silk  hat, 
elegant  cane,  polished  boots,  well  fitting  clothes  and 
curled  moustache ;  her  elegant  dress  and  costly  trim- 
mings, her  fashionable  hat  and  splendid  "  patent  out- 
side "  complexion  ;  note  the  ease  with  which  they  use 
the  opera  glasses  and  ogle  and  dissect  their  neighbors  ; 
hear  their  intelligent  comments  on  the  opera,  and  their 
criticisms  of  the  singing  and  the  acting.  These  people 
are  educated.  At  the  close  she  takes  his  arm  and  not 
his  hand  ;  he*  hands  her  into  the  carriage  with  perfect 
grace  and  then  gets  in  himself.  Let's  not  look  in! 
Why  ?     Because  it  might  not  be  good  manners. 

"Are  all  educated  people  bad  ?"     No. 

"Are  all  uneducated  people  good?"     No. 

"  Which  of  these  couples  enjo}'  themselves  the 
more.^" 

I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  do. 

"  Which  are  the  best,  morally  ?'* 

I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  do. 

"Which  of  the  two  couples  would  3'Ou  rather  be  ?' 

Don't  ask  me  ! 

Reference  to  the  matter  of    ill   fitting  clothing  re 
minds   me  that,  in  the  "good  old  days,"  there  was  al- 
wa3's  one  boy  in  the  family  who   alwa3's  wore  the  worst 
fitting  clothes  ot    anybody  in  the  house.     He  w^is,  gen- 
erally,   a    second  or  thnxl  son.      He  had  a   brother    or 


86  Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 

brothers  older  than  himself,  who  would  get  the  best  of 
all  that  was  new-,  and  he  would  have  to  take  their's  and 
his  father's  old  clothes,  made  over.  This  was  especially 
the  case  with  summer  clothing.  The  linen  woven  by 
the  good  old  mothers  of  those  days  never  wore  out.  It 
got  whiter  each  summer,  but  not  older. 

Imagine  a  boy  fourteen  years  old  who  has  an  older 
brother.  This  older  brother  is  now  getting  to  that  age 
when  he  begins  to  cast  "  sheep's  eyes  "  at  the  girls  and 
must  go  into  society.  The  parents  go  to  town  in  the 
spring  of  the  year  to  market  the  woven  fabrics — the 
linen,  linsey  and  jeans — that  can  be  spared,  and  to  bu}' 
such  things  as  they  can  purchase  with  it.  These  consist 
of  bleached  domestics,  "store"  shoes,  a  little  fine  linen 
for  shirt  bosoms,  hats,  women's  straw  bonnets,  un- 
trimmed;  and  some  ribbons  of  different  colors.  The}' 
come  home  and  lay  out  all  the  "  store  things  "  that  have 
been  bought.  The  children  crowd  around  and  the 
mother  lays  out  the  articles,  one  by  one,  and  says,  "  this 
is  linen  for  your  father's  and  Henry's  shirt  bosoms  ; 
these  are  Henry's  shoes  and  this  is  his  hat  ;  this  ribbon 
is  to  trim  Polly's  and  Mahala's  hats,  and  this  is  for  this 
one  and  that  is  for  that;  and  poor  William  (Bill,  they 
call  him)  stands  by  eating  his  heart  and  wonders  when 
they  will  come  to  the  new  things  for  him. 

When  the  things  are  about  all  laid  out  he  manages 
to  swallow  his  heart  and  find  his  voice  and,  at  last,  asks 
in  desperation, 

"  Mamma,  didn't  you  buy  me  nothin'?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  I  bought  you  this  hat  for  summer  '' 


Peculiakitiks  of  Pioneer  People.  87 

(It  is  a  "chip"  and  cost  twelve  and  a  half  cents!)  ''l 
can  make  over  Henry's  last  summer's  linen  coat  for  3-011 
— the  one  your  father  wore  summer  before  last,  and — 
you  will  have  to  go  barefoot  this  summer,  as  we  couldn't 
buy  any  more  things.  Henry  is  older  than  you  and 
must  have  some  things  that  you  can't  have  yet." 

Her  speech  is  consoling  and  her  manner  kind  and 
regretful,  but  that  don't  do  Bill  any  gooa.  He  almost 
bursts.  He  goes  out  behind  the  house  and  cries  and 
bores  his  dirty  knuckles  into  his  eyes  and  secretly 
"  cusses,"  and  above  all,  wishes  he  could  get  a  chance 
to  plaster  mud  all  over  his  brother  Henry  "  the  first  time 
that  he  puts  all  of  them  store  things  on."  He  also  reg 
isters  an  oath  that  he  will  not  wear  that  old,  long  linen 
coat. 

But  the  time  comes  when  he  is  compelled  to  violate 
that  oath.  Parental  authority  is  supreme,  and  the  first 
time  he  goes  anywhere  on  Sunday,  or  to  a  public  gath- 
ering, his  mother  gets  out  that  coat  and  makes  him  put 
it  on.  It  is  a  little  loose  and  entirely  too  long  and  makes 
him  look  something  like  a  revised  edition  of  Huckleberry 
Finn,  and  his  mother  says: 

"You've  growed  so,  William,  since  last  summer 
that  I  didn't  see  any  use  in  making  it  over.  You'll  soon 
grow  to  it!'' 

That's  a  fact.  Give  him  time  and  he  will  "grow  to 
it."  The  coat  will  surely  wait,  for  one  of  those  coats 
never  was  worn  out. 

Bill  is  mad  and  protests  that  he  would  rather  go  in 
his  shirt  sleeves.      No,  he  must  wear  that  coat,  and  fur 


88 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 


thermore,  his  mother  tells  hhii,  "  if  you  go  to  cuttin'  up 
about  it,  you  shantgo  nary  step."  This  settles  it.  The 
Masons  are  going  to  march  and  Bill  sees  fun  ahead. 
He  would  wear  his  father's  jeans  overcoat  rather  than 
miss  gomg.  It  is  the  first  Masonic  march  and  he  would 
not  miss  it  for  anything. 

He  has  to  ride  behind  his  brother  Henry  on  an  old 
mare  with  a  mule  colt  following.     Here  is  another  hu- 

m  i  1  i  a  t  i  o  n  . 

And  that  mule 

^'^^^M  colt!    Did  you 

"'V^n  ever  have   one 

follow     you, 

'^%  reader?     No? 

Well,    you 

1  h  a  V  e    some 

y.-J  chance   for 

"^^  '}''ii^  heaven.       Ev 

, ,  y^,.  ^f       ery  time  they 


1(4-0^^  meet  anybody 

vz,w  ;  \h2X    perverse 

mule    turns 

around   and 

follows    them. 

'OH,  FOR  A  DOUBLE  SHOTTED  CANNON."  There  is  a 
frantic  effort  to  get  around  it  with  the  old  mare  and 
get  it  to  follow.  No,  sir ;  it  will  not  look  at  its  mother  ; 
acts  as  if  it  never  saw  her  before.  Bill  must  then  get 
down  and  go  around  it  while  Henry  sits  on  the  old  mare 
in  the  road  and  whistles  for  the  colt.     When  Bill  thinks 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People.  89 

he  has  it  headed  off,  it  makes  a  break  by  him  and  runs 
off  sidewise,  looking  back  and  jerking  the  hide  with  a 
tremulous  motion  from  its  ear  clear  back  to  its  tail 
and  brays  that  most  aggravating  mule  colt  bra}'.  Oh, 
for  a  double  shotted  cannon!  Bill  gets  around  it 
and  hits  it  with  rocks,  and  grits  his  teeth  and 
"  cusses  ''  and  grunts,  and  does  his  very  best  to  kill  it ; 
but  rocks  g-lide  off  the  form  of  that  devilish  mule  like 
rubber  balls  off  the  side  of  an  iron  clad.  You  can't  hurt 
him.  I  do  really  believe  that  mules  begin,  when  colts, 
to  rehearse  for  the  miserable  meanness  which  they 
intend  to  act  out  in  after  life. 

But  Bill  finally  heads  it  off  and  they  go  on  to  town. 
Bill  has  never  seen  the  Mason's  march — in  fact  they  have 
never  marched  in  that  county  before.  But  he  has  heard 
a  great  deal  about  them.  He  has  heard  people  say  that 
they  "  believe  the  Masons  ain't  up  to  no  good,  else  they 
would  tell  it."  He  has  heard  too  that  they  are  sup- 
posed to  steal  horses  and  pass  counterfeit  money.  Bill 
thinks  that,  if  this  is  true,  he  may  join  them  when  he 
gets  older,  for  he  is  in  a  general  state  of  insurrection 
about  that  coat,  and  he  don't  care  much  what  he  does 
just  so  it  is  something  bad. 

As  soon  as  Bill  reaches  town  he  finds  a  lot  of  boys 
and  begins  to  play  marbles.  He  has  brought  along  his 
"white  alley,''  which  is  his  "taw,"  some  "pee  wees,"  a 
few  "pottery's  "  and  a  "  glassy  "  or  two.  He  knows  how 
to  play  marbles.  He  is  an  expert.  He  has  practiced 
alone  at  noons  and  evenings  when  his  father  and  brother 
were  resting.     They  play  ''keeps,"  and  with  his  unerr- 


go  Peculiarities  op'  Pioneer  People. 

ing  precision  and  splendid  nerve  Bill  wins  from  the 
start.  About  noon  music  is  heard  and  men,  women  and 
children  are  seen  rushing  toward  a  certain  point.  The 
boys  seize  their  marbles  and  rush  off  with  the  crowd, 

TJie  Maso7is  are  viarcJiing! 

They  have  formed  in  their  hall  and  come  into  the 
street  double  file,  with  their  aprons  on,  with  one  man 
carrying  a  mace  and  an  old,  grey  bearded  man  carrying 
a  bible  on  a  plush  covered  rest  which  is  suspended  from 
his  shoulders  by  straps.  They  are  headed  by  two  noted 
fiddlers  who  are  capable  of  furnishing  the  best  music 
that  can  be  made  inside  the  limits  of  the  county.  They 
are  playing  "  BonaparteVs  Retreat  "  and  everything 
seems  very  solemn.  They  pass  around  a  block  and  Bill 
o-oes  with  the  crowd  and  heads  the  procession  off.  The 
fiddlers  have  changed  the  tune  and  are  now  playing 
"The  Lost  Boy."  This  is  very  solemn  and  touching; 
Bill  is  so  worked  upon  by  the  music  that  he  could  almost 
forgive  the  mule,  if  the  mule  would  ask  him  and  promise 
not  to  do  so  any  more.  The  procession  goes  all  over 
the  little  town,  up  one  street  and  down  another,  the 
crowd,  in  the  meantime,  heading  it  off  here  and  there, 
and  finally  they  march  to  their  hall  and  disappear  to  the 
touching  strains  of  "  Poor  Marv  Blaine." 

Bill  goes  back  to  the  game  of  "  keeps;"  and,  after 
the  town  boys  have  bought  some  more  marbles,  the 
game  is  resumed  and  the  Masons,  for  the  time,  are  for- 
gotten. Bill's  aim  improves  as  the  day  wears  away, 
and  his  one  pocket  (he  has  but  one  that  will  hold  shucks) 
begins  to  2:et  uncomfortably  full  and  sags  heavily      Bill 


Peculiarities  oe  Pioneer  People.  91 

has  to  walk  sidewise  in  order  to  get  around.  He  finally 
wms  all  the  marbles  and  the  game  stops.  The  town 
boys  go  off  and  consult  and  Bill  sits  down  in  the  dirt 
with  two  marbles,  shooting  one  at  the  other,  as  a  sort  of 
challenge  to  all  comers.  He  sees  furtive  glances  in  his 
direction  from  the  crowd  of  boys,  and  begins  to  grow 
uneasy.  They  evidently  intend  mischief;  this  mischief 
being  nothing  short  of  throwing  him  down  and  taking 
his  marbles  away  from  him.  He  gets  up  and  sidles 
over  to  the  fence,  where  the  long  linen  coat  hangs,  and 
takes  it  down  and  puts  it  on.  For  the  first  time  he 
feels  a  sort  of  protection  in  this  coat.  It  is  a  sort  of 
armor  and  makes  him  look  larger.  The  crowd  begins 
to  move  toward  him  and  he  starts  off  down  the  street 
which  leads  toward  his  home,  walking  slowly  and  whis- 
tling, as  though  he  didn't  understand  the  meaning  of 
their  maneuvers  and  has  no  idea  that  mischief  is  con- 
templated. He  hears  one  of  the  boys  say,  "go  on, 
Jack,"  and  a  big  boy  steps  out  of  the  crowd  and  walks 
toward  him.  Bill  w^alks  a  little  faster.  The  big  boy 
walks  faster  than  he  does.  He  then  quickens  his  pace 
and  walks  much  faster.  The  pursuer  quickens  his  pace 
also  and  walks  very  much  faster.  Bill  then  strikes  a 
trot.  The  big  boy  trots  also ;  then  Bill  runs,  and  the 
big  boy  runs,  too.  By  this  time  they  have  reached  the 
outer  edge  of  the  little  town  and  are  going  down  a  long 
hill.     It  now  becomes  a  race  for — marbles. 

Bill  is  sadly  handicapped  in  two  ways  ;  he  is  smaller 
than  his  pursuer  and  he  is  carrying  immense  weight  in 
the  great  number  of    marbles  he   has  in  his  pocket  and 


92 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 


the  weight  is  badly  distributed — all  the  marbles  being  in 
one  pocket.  But  Bill  lays  himself  out  for  all  those  mar- 
bles are  worth.  As  they  get  near  the  bottom  of  the 
hill  he  hears  the  quick  drawn  breath  of  the  other  boy 
and  the  flutter  of  his  pants.  He  feels  that  nothing  but  a 
coup  d'etat  will  save  those  marbles. 


"bill  broke  the  record  in  trotting  the  next  mile." 

He  slackens  his  gait,  and,  as  the  big  boy  passes  at 
full  run,  he  catches  one  side  of  the  tail  of  that  long  coat, 
and,  carrying  it  over  BilPs  head,  rips  it  up  to  the  collar. 
This  brings  the  big  boy  to  an  about  face,  and  before  he 
can  recover  his  equilibrium,  Bill,  still  running,  delivers  a 
powerful  blow  with  his  fist  in  the  pit  of  his  pursuer's 
stomach. 


Peculiarities  ok  Pioneer  People.  93 

This  unexpected  stroke  doubles  the  big  boy  up  like 
a  jack  knife.  He  grabs  his  stomach  with  both  hands, 
walks  'round  and  'round  in  a  kind  of  swing  and  gets  aw^- 
fully  pale.  After  a  while  he  begins  to  get  his  breath  at 
intervals,  with  a  loud  whooping  sound.  Bill  does  not 
wait  to  see  the  outcome.  He  sees  the  crowd  coming 
and  he  strikes  out  in  a  dog  trot  with  those  coat  tails 
standmg  out  on  either  side  like  the  wings  of  an  ostrich. 
When  he  reaches  the  top  of  the  hill  he  looks  back  and 
sees  the  big  boy  lying  down  and  the  crowd  around  him, 
some  of  whom  are  shaking  their  fists  at  him  ;  but  they 
do  not  make  further  pursuit.  Bill  breaks  the  record  in 
trotting  the  next  mile,  and  then,  feeling  that  he  is  safe, 
lies  down  in  the  shade  and  counts  his  marbles.  He  has 
about  a  hundred. 

"Jee  Whillikins!  what  will  the  boys  say  when 
they  see  me  with  all  these  marbles  ?" 

There  are  two  things  which  Bill  is  glad  of:  He  has 
won  lots  of  marbles,  and  that  hateful  coat  is  ruined  be- 
yond repair.  He  feels  sure  of  it.  He  takes  it  off  and 
carries  it  over  his  shoulder  until  he  is  near  home.  He 
"^hen  puts  it  on  for  a  purpose.  He  wants  his  mother  to 
see  it  in  its  condition  of  utter  and  irreparable  ruin. 

When  he  goes  in  his  mother  asks, 

"  Why,  William,  what  brought  you  home  so  soon  .?" 

"  Oh,  I  dunno ;  I  jest  got  tired!" 

"Why,  my  son,"  (turning  him  around)  "just  look 
at  your  coat !     How  in  the  world  did  you  do  that  .^" 

"  I  come  acrost  Turner's  paster,  and  as  I  jumped 
off  the  fence  it  cotch  on  a  knot  an'  jest  tore  itself r 


94  Pecui^iarities  of  Pioneer  People. 

"  Lawsey  !  Lawsey  massey,  William,  you  are  jest 
the  wust  imp  I  ever  seen  !  Turn  around  here  and  let 
me  see.  I  do  believe  you've  ruined  that  coat — no  you 
ain't  nuther  ;  I  tho't  it  was  tore,  but  it  airi  t ;  ifs  jest 
ripped  ;  I  can  sezv  it  up  and  make  it  as  good  as  everP"^ 

Merciful  heavens  !  Bill  thought  that  coat  was  ru- 
ined !  and  it  is  only  ripped!  His  heart  goes  clear  down 
to  his  heels.  But  there  is  som.e  consolation — he  has  got 
more  marbles  than  all  the  other  boys  in  that  neigh- 
borhood. 

The  above  is  not  overdrawn  and  everything  therein 
related  actually  occurred. 

Another  one  of  those  unfortunate  second  sons  re- 
lates his  experience. 

Colonel  Jack  and  some  choice  spirits  are  sitting 
around  the  camp  fire  in  the  Confederate  army.  He  is 
six  feet  two,  forty-five  and  single.  One  of  the  bo3s 
asks  :  "  Colonel,  why  is  it  that  you  have  never  married  ?" 

"  For  good  and  sufficient  I'easons,"  the  Colonel  an- 
swers, "  I  was  never  in  love,  as  you  call  it,  but  once,  and 
as  it  brought  me  more  troubles  and  disasters  in  one  year 
than  I  have  had,  otherwise,  in  all  my  life,  I  con- 
cluded that  I  had  better  give  the  fair  sex  a  wide  berth 
and  let  them  severely  alone." 

"Tell  us  about  it.  Colonel,"  exclaimed  a  dozen 
voices . 

"Well,"  begun  the  Colonel,  "you  all  know  that  I 
was  reared  in  Missouri.  My  father  had  a  few  old, 
ashy,  scrofulous  niggers — enough  to  give  the  family  an 
air  of   respectability — but  they  didn't   amount  to  much. 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People.  95 

They  didn't  keep  us  in  the  shade,  I  know.  My  father 
was  an  industrious  man  and  he  made  his  boys  work,  and 
my  mother  took  the  lead  of  the  negro  women  and  the 
girls  in  the  manufacture  of  all  the  clothing  for  white  and 
black. 

"  I  was  an  unfortunate  boy  in  some  respects.  I 
was  a  second  son,  in  the  first  place.  My  older  brother. 
Bob,  got  all  the  new  things,  all  the  '  store  clothes,'  that 
were  bought  and  I  had  to  take  his  and  father's  old 
clothes,  made  over.  When  the  family  went  anywhere, 
to  a  wedding,  a  pai'ty  or  to  church,  Bob,  being  the  old- 
est, must  go  and  I  generally  had  to  remain  at  home, 
either  to  watch  the  house,  or  because  my  clothes  were 
not  good  enough. 

"  Well,  as  a  consequence,  I  grew  up  to  be  a  great 
big,  awkward,  shy  boy.  I  was  afraid  of  the  girls  in  the 
society  in  which  our  family  moved.  I  was  utterly  mouth- 
bound  and  speechless  in  the  presence  of  one  of  them. 

"  When  I  was  about  sixteen  or  seventeen,  one  of 
those  old  migratory  fellows  came  along  and  my  father 
permitted  him  and  his  family  to  occupy  an  old  shanty 
that  was  on  the  place  and  let  him  cultivate  a  piece  of 
ground  '  on  shares.'  Contrary  tp  the  rule  with  such 
people  this  old  man  and  his  wife  had  only  one  child— a 
daughter.  The  old  man  was  one  of  those  old,  sawed 
off,  pot-bellied  and  short  legged  fellows,  that  didn't  like 
to  move  around  and  work  much,  and  so  took  life  after  a 
sort  of  '  hand  to  mouth  '  fashion.  The  girl  was  about 
my  age  or  a  little  younger,  was  fat — a  regular  squab — 
and  her  skin  was  as  white  as  bleached  muslin 


96  PkculiaritiKvS  ok  Pioneer  People. 

"  I  soon  began  to  slip  over  to  this  old  man's  home  at 
night,  or  when  our  family  was  gone,  and  was  soon  on  the 
very  best  of  terms  with  the  family — including  the  girl. 
It  wasn''t  long  until  the  girl  and  I  were  heels  over  head 
in  love.  It  was  that  agonizing  kind  of  love  that  just 
submerges  and  overwhelms  you  and  gives  you  the  back- 
ache. 

''  The  girl  and  I  never  talked  love.  Oh,  no,  we  were 
too  deeply  and  sadly  and  madly  in  love  for  that.  We 
just  took  it  out  in  squeezing  hands  and  looking  unutter- 
able things  at  each  other. 

"  I  guess  we  were  about  as  sick  a  looking  pair  of 
3'oung  geese  as  an3'body  ever  saw.  I  got  to  be  very 
little  account  on  the  farm.  I  would  forget  to  eat  my 
meals  if  I  wasn't  called  two  or  three  times.  The  girl's 
father  and  mother   were  delighted,  for  they  felt  it  to  be 

a  great  compliment  to  have  one  of  Judge 's  sons  as 

a  suitor  for  Matilda's  hand.  Her  name  was  Matilda, 
but  they  called  her  'Tilda. 

"  There  was  a  spring  of  good  water  near  the  house 
occupied  by  this  old  doughnut,  and  I  would  sometimes 
take  our  jug  and  go  down  to  the  spring  after  water 
when  we  would  be  working  in  the  field  near  there.  I 
would  always  manage  to  let  'Tilda  know  that  I  was 
commg,  by  whistling  or  singing,  and  then  she  would 
seize  a  bucket  and  come  down.  We  used  to  sit  on  the 
low  bank  below  the  spring  and  squeeze  hands  and  pad- 
dle our  feet  in  the  water,  and  I  would  look  into  'Tilda's 
great  blue  eyes  and  almost  die. 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People.  97 

"  This  thing  went  on  one  whole   summer   and  the 
followins:  fall  and  winter. 

"  About  the  first  of  March  the  next  year  a  great 
calamity  befell  'Tilda  and  me.  I  don't  know  how  it 
could  have  happened  without  my  hearing  of  it;  but 
from  some  cause,  I  hadn't  been  over  to  see  'Tilda  for  a 
week  or  so ;  and  all  at  once  her  father,  with  the  instinct 
of  his  class,  took  a  notion  to  move.  He  and  father  had 
met  and  fixed  up  all  their  business.  Father  had  bought 
what  little  feed  stuff  he  had  left  and  the  old  man  was 
preparing  to  seek  another  place.  I  heard  of  it  the 
morning  they  were  to  move.  Father  was  over  there  at 
tending  to  some  small  unsettled  details  with  the  old 
man.  I  don't  remember  what  excuse  I  made  for  going 
over,  but  I  went.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  felt 
worse  than  I  did  that  morning.  I  have  seen  relatives 
die  ;  I  have  seen  comrades  whom  I  dearly  loved  shot 
down  in  battle  ;  in  short  I  have  witnessed  many  calami- 
ties that  are  calculated  to  pull  on  a  fellow's  heartstrings 
pretty  hard  ;  but  this  day  was  the  worst.  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  I  felt  like  rushing  into  the  midst  of  them 
with  some  drawn  weapon  and  uttering  a  manly  protest 
against  the  outrage.  But  I  didn't.  I  didn't  know  how; 
and  besides  I  wasn't  that  kind  of  a  lover.  My  love 
made  me  cowardly,  tremulous,  weak  and  sick.  The  old 
man  had  all  his  household  goods  in  an  old  wagon  to 
which  was  hitched  a  yoke  of  oxen  with  an  old  mare  in 
the  lead  of  the  steers — a  '  spike  team.'  There  was  a 
chicken  coop  containing  the  chickens  on  behind  the 
wagon,  and   some  old,  bottomless  chairs  tied  on  to  the 


98  Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 

coop.  'Tilda  was  on  the  other  old  mare  and  had  gath- 
ered the  two  cows  and  a  couple  of  yearlings  which  she 
was  to  drive  behind  the  wagon.  She  was  riding  around, 
keeping  this  stock  in  place  for  the  start,  while  her  '  dad ' 
and  mine  finished  business  matters.  I  didn't  get  to 
speak  to  her.  I  just  looked  at  her — looked  that  wistful, 
longing,  painful  look,  such  as  only  a  lover  of  my  age  and 
condition  can  look. 

"  Finally  the  old  man  took  up  the  line  that  was  to 
guide  the  old  mare  in  the  lead,  and  the  whip  which  was 
to  govern  the  oxen. 

"  '  Well,  good  bye,  Judge,'  said  he  ;  '  good  b3^e, 
Jackie  '  (that  was  me)  and  then — 'get  up,  Lize  !  Wo, 
Buck  ;  come  here.  Broad.' 

"  There  was  a  *  ronching '  and  squeaking  sound 
from  the  old  wagon,  the  girl  got  around  the  cows  and 
3'earlings  and  they  dropped  in  behind  the  wagon.  She 
looked  at  me  as  she  turned  into  the  road  and  with  those 
big,  blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears, said,  '  good  bye,  Jack;' 
'  good  bye,  'Tilda,'  I  answered,  in  choking  tones,  and 
then  turning  saw  my  father  as  he  was  turning  to  go 
home.  I  did  not  dare  to  risk  myself  in  his  company, 
for  1  felt  that  I  would  '  boo-hoo  '  in  spite  of  all  that  I 
could  do.  I  turned  and  ran  for  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  at  right  angles  to  the  road  home,  in  a  path  that  led 
around  a  forty  acre  field.  When  I  got  around  in  the 
timber  out  of  sight  of  my  father  I  sat  down  on  a  log, 
and  then,  with  nobody  present  but  the  Lord  and  me,  I 
opened  up  the  flood  gates.  It  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 
I  had  to  let  off  the  pressure  or  burst. 


PeculiaritiEvS  op  Pioneer  Peopee. 


99 


After  that  I  was  silent,  moody  and  melancholy, 
devising  a  thousand  ways  b}^  which  I  was  to  get  that 
girl  and  abandoning  them  all  because  I  had  no  courage. 

"  Finally  one  Sunday  in  April  the  family  went  away 
to  church,  and,  as  usual,  left  me  at  home.  After  they 
had  gone  a  sense  of  loneliness  came  over  me.  I  wanted 
to  see  'Tilda,  and,  in  five  minutes  I  decided  that  I  woiild 
see  her,  if  she  was  to  be  seen. 

"  I  put  on  the  best  clothes  I  had,  which  were  most- 
ly second  hand.  I  caught  an  old  blind  mare  which  was 
kept  up  to  keep  her  from  falling  over  banks  and  killing 
herself,  or  getting  lost.  All  the  other  horses  that  the 
family  were  not  using  had  been  turned  out.  I  put  an 
old  blind  bridle  on  her  and  an  old  saddle  that  the  nig- 
gers used,  and  mounted  and  started — where?  I  didn't 
know.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  where 
'Tilda's  father  had  moved  to.  He  might  be  within  five 
miles;  he  might  be  in  Arkansas  or  Texas.  But  I  de- 
termined to  make  an  effort,  and  so  I  started  in  the  same 
direction  and  on  the  same  road  that  they  had  taken  on 
the  morning  they  went  away.  .  I  must  have  been  a  sight; 
I  was  then  seventeen,  was  six  feet  tall  and  as  slender  as 
a  rail.  I  had  on  an  alpaca  coat  which  was  too  short  ; 
the  stirrup  leathers  were  too  short,  and  when  I  got  on, 
my  knees  almost  met  over  the  old  mare's  withers.  It  was 
nearly  noon  when  I  started  and  I  rode  five  or  six  miles 
before  I  began  to  make  inquiries.  I  couldn't  hear  a 
word  of  them  anywhere.  But  I  rode  on  in  perfect  des- 
peration. I  rode  through  two  or  three  different  neigh- 
borhoods until,  when  the  sun  began  to  wane,  I  felt  that 


lOO  PECULIARITIES   OP   PlONEER    PEOPI.E. 

I  must  be  many  miles  away  from  home,  and,  still  to  all 
inquiries  the  same  answer  came — '  don't  know  any  such 
person  ;   he  don't  live  in  this  neighborhood.' 

"  Finally  I  met  a  man,  who,  after  the  usual  inquiry, 
said, 

"  'Oh,  yes,  I  think  I  know  him — little,  old,  short,  fat 
man,  ain't  he  ?' 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  Got  a  wife  and  one  darter — fat,  fair  complected 
gal?' 

"'Yes.' 

" '  Well,  he  lives  over  here  about  three  mile,  on 
Mr.  Ashley's  place.' 

"  He  then  gave  me  directions  how  to  get  there  and 
I  started  off,  feeling  jubilant.  I  had  found  my  love.  I 
felt  that  I  could  almost  fly.  I  urged  the  old  blind  mare 
on  to  her  best  speed,  and  that  was  not  much,  for  she 
was  about  worn  out.  Just  as  the  sun  was  setting  I  rode 
up  to  the  place.  It  was  a  little  doubled  log  house,  with 
a  good  deal  of  the  '  chinking  '  and  '  daubing  '  out  of  it. 
I  got  a  glimpse  of  'Tilda  and  things  began  to  revolve 
and  for  a  moment  I  was  stone  blind.  Oh,  bliss  !  bliss! 
bushels  and  buckets  of  bliss!  The  family  all  came  out 
to  meet  me.  The  old  man  called  me  'Jackie  '  and  was 
glad  to  see  me.  'Tilda  called  me  'Jack,'  in  her  most 
mellifluous  tones,  and  as  soon  as  we  were  alone,  said, 

"  '  You  great,  big  feller,  you  I  why  didn't  ye  come 
sooner.'^' 

"  The  old  lady  and  'Tilda  got  supper  at  the  old 
fashioned    fireplace,  for  there  were  no  stoves  in  those 


Peculiarities  op  Pioneer  People.  loi 

days,  and  the  evening  being,  cool  the  old  man  and  I  sat 
on  either  side  of  the  fireplace  and  talked. 

"Just  before  supper  was  ready  the  old  lady,  after 
having  fried  the  meat,  set  the  frying  pan  against  the 
jamb  of  the  fireplace  near  mc.  It  was  one  of  the  old  fash- 
ioned fr3-ing  pans,  with  a  long  flat  handle  with  a  hole  in 
the  end.  I  took  hold  of  the  handle  of  the  pan  and  was 
fumbling  with  it,  and  intuitively  stuck  my  finger  through 
the  hole.  It  was  a  neat  fit  and  when  I  attempted  to  get 
iny  finger  out  I  found  that  it  wouldn't  come.  Just  then 
supper  was  announced.  Here  was  a  fix.  I  couldn't  go 
to  the  table  with  that  frying  pan  on  my  finger,  and  I  was 
too  bashful  to  announce  my  predicament,  so  I  said  in 
answer  to  the  invitation  to  '  set  up  to  supper,' 

"  '  No,  thank  you,  I'm  not  hungry  !' 

"  This  was  an  awful  lie,  for  I  had  had  no  dinner, 
had  ridden  hard  all  the  afternoon  and  was  as  hungry  as 
a  wolf.  But,  try  all  I  would,  I  couldn  t  get  my  finger 
out  of  that  hole  in  the  frying  pan  handle! 

"They  insisted  on  my  '  sitting  up  and  trying  to  eat 
a  bite,'  and  I  persisted  that  I  was  not  hungry — all  the 
time  with  the  frying  pan  handle  between  my  knees  and 
tugging  away,  trying  to  release  my  finger,  but  it 
wouldn't  come,  nor  did  they  notice  my  predicament. 
After  exhausting  all  efforts  to  get  me  to  'set  up,'  with- 
out avail,  they  sat  down. 

"  Left  to  myself,  and  taking  things  quietly,  I  soon 
got  my  finger  out  of  the  hole.  I  would  have  given  the 
blind  mare  for  them  to  ask  me  to  supper  again  ;  but 
they  didn't.     They  had  done  all  that  good  people  could 


I02  Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 

do  and  I  would  not  eat.  After  supper  the  old  man  went 
out  about  his  feeding  and  I  went  out  and  '  minded  off 
the  calves,'  while  'Tilda  milked.  When  we  came  in  she 
set  the  bucket  of  milk  on  the  table  and  went  into  the 
other  room  in  search  of  the  strainer.  It  occurred  to  me 
that  this  was  a  good  chance  to  get  a  swig  of  milk  and  I 
grabbed  up  the  bucket  and  drank  the  warm  milk  like  a 
very  calf.  The  bail  of  the  bucket  fell  over  my  head  and 
as  'Tilda  opened  the  door  I  attempted  to  set  the  bucket 
down  right  quick  and  the  bail  caught  on  the  back  of  my 
neck  and  I  spilt  about  a  pint  of  niilk  in  my  bosom. 

"  'Tilda  was  astonished.  I  then  told  her  why  I  had 
not  eaten  supper.  As  the  old  folks  had  temporarily 
surrendered  this  room  to  us,  'Tilda  went  to  work  at 
once  to  prepare  something  for  me  to  eat.  She  desired 
to  treat  me  to  some  plum  preserves,  and,  as  they  were 
in  a  jar  on  a  high  shelf,  in  the  cupboard,  she  asked  me 
to  take  them  down.  In  doing  so  I  tilted  them  over  and 
spilled  a  lot  of  them  in  my  hair.  'Tilda  washed  me  off 
the  second  time  and  I  finally  sat  down  and  ate  a  hearty 
supper.  It  wasn't  long,  however,  until  'Tilda  and  I 
were  seated  '  cheek  by  jowl,'  in  the  good  old  way, 
throbbing  and  pulsating  against  each  other.  She  had  a 
breath  like  a  young  cow  just  after  the  first  appearance 
of  wild  onions.  But  all  the  blissful  pleasures  in  this  life 
must  end,  sometime.  The  old  lady  called  out  to  us 
from  the  other  room  that  it  was  bed  time.  They  had  a 
bed  in  each  room,  so  that  there  was  no  other  way  to 
arrange  things  except    for    the    old   lady  and  'Tilda  to 


Peculiarities  op  Pioneer  People.  103 

occupy  the  bed  in  one  room  and  the  old  man  and  I  the 
other. 

"  The  old  man  came  in  and  'Tilda  went  into  the 
other  room  with  her  mother.  I  was  terribly  bashful 
about  going  to  bed  with  the  old  man,  but  finally  man- 
aged to  get  in  behind.  During  the  night  one  of  those 
terribly  cold  April  storms  came  up,  and,  as  I  was  sleep- 
ing near  a  big  crack  where  the  chinking  and  daubing 
were  out,  I  woke  up  almost  frozen.  It  was  just  unbear 
ably  cold.  I  slid  out  over  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  got 
my  pants  and,  crawling  back,  stuffed  them  into  the 
crack.  After  this  I  got  along  very  well.  When  I 
awoke  the  next  morning  the  old  man  was  gone.  He 
had  arisen  and  was  out  feeding.  Pretty  soon  the  old 
lady  knocked  on  the  door  and  called, 

"  '  Come,  Jackie,  breakfast  is  ready.'  I  bounced 
out,  and,  not  seeing  my  pants  remembered  that  I  had 
stuffed  them  in  the  crack  ;  but  what  was  my  surprise 
upon  looking  there  to  find  that  they  were  not  there.  I 
looked  all  over  the  room,  turned  the  covers  about  and 
got  on  the  bed  and  peeped  out  through  the  crack,  but 
nowhere  could  those  pants  be  found. 

"The  old  lady  knocked  on  the  door  again — 

"  '  Are  you  up,  Jackie?' 

"  I  jumped  in  bed  and  covered  up  and  answered, 

"'No^m.' 

"  '  Well,  get  up,'  said  she,  '  breakfast  is  ready,' 

"  I  got  up  and  took  another  look  for  the  pants. 
But,  it  was  no  use.  I  couldn't  find  them.  The  old  man 
finally  came  in. 


I04 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People. 


"  '  Come,  Jackie,'  said  he,  in  a  hearty,  kind  way, 
'  get  up  young  feller ;   they're  waitin'  breakfast  fur  ye.' 

"  I  had  to  tell  the  old  man  that  I  couldn't  find  my 
pants.  He  then  made  search,  and,  finally  the  old  lady 
was  called  in,  and,  while   I  covered  up,  she    '  raked  the 

house  with 
a  fine  tooth 
comb,'  and 
'Tilda  was 
drafted  into 
service  and 
sent  around 
the  house 
on  the  out- 
side. It  all 
ended  in 
not  finding 
my  pants. 
At  last  they 
brought  me 
a  pair  of  the 
old  man's 
pants  and  I 
got  up  and 

''EVEN    'TILDA   COULD    NOT   REPRESS   A   SMILE."    p^t     them 

on.  I  was  a  sight  to  behold.  The  pants  struck  me 
about  half  way  between  the  knees  and  ankles  and 
went  around  me  almost  twice.  I  think  I  was  as 
ridiculous  a  looking  creature  as  any  one  ever  looked 
upon.      Even  'Tilda  could    not    repress  a   smile.     After 


Peculiarities  of  Pioneer  People.  105 

breakfast  I  went  out  with  the  old  man  to  catch  the  old 
blind  mare,  and  there,  near  the  stable,  stood  a  calf — one 
of  the  yearlings — with  one  of  my  suspenders  hangin' 
out  of  its  mouth.  The  infernal  thing  had  eaten  my 
pants  and  had,  I  firmly  believe,  swallowed  my  pocket 
knife.  I  was  a  perfect  sight  riding  home  with  the  old 
man's  pants  on. 

'  I  dreaded  the  ordeal  of  meeting  the  folks.  Un- 
fortunately I  arrived  there  at  noon,  when  the  family  were 
at  the  house,  and  I  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  my  father 
and  mother,  my  big  brother  and  the  other  children,  and 
even  the  blamed  niggers  laughed  at  me.  I  had  to  tell 
the  whole  story  in  order  to  account  for  my  change  of 
pants.      I  didn't  hear  the  last  of  the  matter  for  3'ears. 

"  I  just  concluded,  then  and  there,  that  if  a  little 
love  scrape  like  that  would  cost  me  so  much  trouble,  I 
wouldn't  have  anything  more  to  do  with  love  matters, 
and  I  never  have." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THEN  AND  NOW. 


HARDSHIPS  OP  THE  PIONEER — THE  WAY  THEY  LIVED — 
MUSCLE  AND  ITS  ENVIRONMENT — THE  RESULT  OP  EDUCATION 
AND  WEALTH — C.  AUGUSTUS  AND  ARABELLA — A  CONTRAST — 
WHY  ^ 

EW  people,  who  live  in 
large  cities  or  in  old  and 
well  populated  communities, 
are  able  to  realize  the  diffi- 
culties to  be  overcome,  the 
hardships  to  be  undergone, 
and  the  discomforts  to  be 
f endured  by  the  pioneer  in  a 
new  countr}^ 

If  we  could  conceive  of 
such  a  thing  as  an  uninhab- 
ited land,  rich  in  all  natural 
resources,  blessed  with  fertile  soil,  pure  water  and  good 
seasons,  and  then  drop  a  family  down  from  some  other 
planet,  what  could  they  do? 

Everything  looks  well.  The  soil  Is  rich,  but  where 
is  the  seed  ?  The  seasons  are  favorable,  but  where  is 
the  plow?  The  w^ater  is  clear  and  pure,  but  man  can 
not  live  on  water  alone  any  more  than  he  can  on  bread 
alone.     This  was  very  much  the  condition  of  the  early 


Then  and  Now.  107 

pioneers  in  the  West.  The}'  had  nothing  except  what 
they  could  bring  with  them  in  wagons. 

Tiring  of  the  restraints  of  older  communities,  or 
desiring  to  reach  some  goodly  land  where  the  soil  was 
cheap  and  fertile,  in  which  they  could  rear  their  families 
and  give  their  sons  and  daughters  an  equal  start  in  life 
with  the  best  of  those  around  them,  these  grand  pioneers 
broke  loose  from  all  ties  of  ho-me  and  kindred  and 
plunged  into  the  unexplored  wilderness. 

There  is  a  sort  of  instinctive  feeling  in  the  heart  of 
every  brave  and  proud  man  which  rebels  at  the  idea  of 
being  second  to  anybody  in  the  community.  We  all 
feel  at  times  that  "  It  is  better  to  be  the  first  man  in  a 
small  town  than  the  second  man  in  a  larg-e  one."  This 
is  the  feeling  that  moves  many  a  man  from  the  older 
communities,  where  competition  is  strong,  and  drives 
him  to  the  new  where  he  may  be,  if  not  the  best,  at 
least  as  good  as  the  best.  But  for  such  a  man  there  is 
nothing  but  hardships  and  bitter  trial  at  the  start.  He 
goes  into  the  virgin  forest,  with  untamed  nature  all 
around  him,  and  grapples  with  this  rough  environment 
for  his  living. 

He  must  cut  down  the  trees  and  build  a  house,  or 
an  excuse  for  one,  which  will  protect  him  and  his  from 
the  inclement  weather  and  from  the  wild  beasts  around 
him.  He  must  plow  up  the  new  soil  with  an  indifferent 
plow  ;  he  must  build  fences  and  barns,  and  make  bridges, 
go  perhaps  a  hundred  miles  to  mill,  and,  in  fact,  do 
everything  at  a  sacrifice  of  time  and  muscle  which 
would  be  appalling  to  the  man   in  the  so-called  civilized 


io8  Then  and  Now. 

communities.  And,  after  all  his  toil,  if  he  should  raise 
more  than  he  can  use,  unless  enough  new  comers 
come  in  to  help  him  eat  it,  it  is  a  burden  on  his  hands. 

He  must  raise  his  own  sheep,  and  his  wife  and 
daughters  must  spin,  dye,  warp  and  weave  and  make 
the  wmter's  clothing.  He  raises  flax  and  from  this  the 
women  spin,  warp  and  weave  and  make  the  summer 
clothing  for  all  the  family. 

The  wild  animals  and  birds,  the  squirrel,  the  coon 
and  the  bear,  the  crow,  the  blackbird  and  the  jay,  make 
incursions  on  his  growing  crops  and  he  is  kept  busy, 
when  not  at  the  plow,  in  driving  away  and  killing  those 
pests  of  the  pioneer. 

If  the  streams  are  swollen  with  spring  or  autumn 
rains,  there  being  no  bridges,  and  the  bread  runs  short, 
the  family  must  resort  to  "  gritting"  their  bread.  Does 
the  reader  know  what  "  gritting  "  is  ?  If  not,  I  must 
explain. 

The  "  gritter "  is  made  by  taking  a  piece  of  old 
tin  (usually  an  old  coffee  pot,  flattened  out)  and  perfor- 
ating it  all  over  with  a  nail — all  the  perforations  being 
made  from  one  side.  The  nail  thus  pushes  the  tin 
through  to  the  opposite  side  and  makes  it  rough.  This 
is  bent  to  a  concavo-convex  and  nailed  to  a  board  with 
the  convex  and  rough  surface  outward. 

If  the  new  corn  is  just  "passed  the  milk  "  it  is  all 
right  for  being  gritted.  If  not,  hard  corn  must  be  taken 
and  boiled  until  it  is  suflSciently  soft  for  that  purpose. 
In  either  case,  the  person  who  does  the  "gritting''  sits 
down  and  puts  one  end  of   the  "  gritter  "  in  a  big  tray 


Thkn  and  Now.  109 

and  the  other  between  his  knees,  and  then,  grasping  the 
corn  by  the  two  ends,  he  passes  it  rapidly  up  and  down 
over  this  rough  surface,  and  the  grains  of  the  corn  are 
thus  cut  into  fine  particles  and  fall  into  the  tray.  This 
is  sifted  and  then  made  into  corn  bread  in  the  usual  way. 
If  the  family  happened  to  have  company,  when  in  such 
straitened  circumstances,  they  would  want  something 
finer  than  the  coarser  parts  of  the  "  gritted  "  meal  for 
the  purpose  of  making  a  pudding.  That  was  obtained 
in  this  way: 

Having  a  large  tray  of  "  gritted  "  meal,  one  of  the 
women  of  the  house  would  sit  down  with  a  piece  of  fine, 
home  woven  linen  and,  drawing  it  through  the  heap, 
catching  the  finer  particles  on  it  (the  coarser  particles 
falling  off  from  their  weight)  she  would  then  shake 
this  over  another  tray.  This  was  repeated  until  enough 
of  the  finer  particles  of  the  gritted  meal  was  obtained  to 
make  the  required  pudding.  This  was  called  "  sarchin' 
for  fiour." 

Upon  this  and  lye  hominy  the  family  subsisted  for 
bread  until  the  streams  were  fordable  again. 

This  was  only  one  of  the  many  privations  to  which 
the  pioneer  was  subjected. 

It  was  almost  impossible  to  obtain  such  an  article 
as  nails  except  to  a  very  limited  extent,  and,  hence  the 
boards  that  covered  the  house  and  other  building  were 
laid  on  in  the  usual  way  and  then  "  weighted''  on  with 
poles — the  poles  being  held  in  position  by  wooden  pins. 
The  man  who  owned  an  auger,  a  drawing  knife,  a  hand 


no  Then  and  Now. 

saw  and  a  chisel  was  considered  to  be  almost  a  bloated 
aristocrat,  and  had  many  opportunities  to  lend  them. 

Under  those  severe  conditions  the  pioneer  strug- 
gled on. 

After  a  while  plenty  and  comfort  came.  .  The 
"wald  nature  "  was  taken  out  of  the  soil  by  cultivation. 
By  building  and  rebuilding  he  finally  obtained  a  home 
which  was  comfortable.  Stock  grew  and  multiplied, 
children  came  and  grew  up  as  helpers  in  the  family,  and 
here  great  happiness  reigned  and  the  strongest  virtue 
that,  perhaps,  the  world  has  ever  knowm  was  developed. 
In  time  the  mills  came  nearer,  bridges  were  built  and 
other  comforts  of  a  slowly  advancing  civilization  found 
their  way  into  these  far  away  settlements. 

What  a  contrast  between  then  and  now! 

Then  such  things  as  paralysis,  insanity,  and  sui- 
cide were  unknown.  I  am  often  asked,  (as  I  suppose 
every  doctor  is)  "  Why  is  it  that  there  are  so  many 
more  cases  of  paralysis,  insanity,  and  suicide  now  than 
in  the  early  days  P''  The  answer  is  easy  when  one 
thinks  a  moment.  When  the  pioneer  grappled  with  his 
environment  with  his  muscle,  it  was  purely  a  battle  be- 
tween muscle  and  courage  on  the  one  hand  and  the  vir- 
gin forest  on  the  other. 

There  was  very  little  need  for  cultivated  brains,  for 
the  pioneer  could  not  use  such  a  brain  if  he  had  it. 

The  pioneer's  brain  was  rarely  excited  by  anything. 
By  his  constant  toil  his  excess  of  blood  was  daily  drawn 
into  his  muscles  in  order  to  supply  the  waste  occasioned 
by  the  wielding  of  the  ax,  the  maul  and  other  necessary 


Then  and  Now.  hi 

implements  of  his  warfare  with  the  unhewn  forests. 
When  he  lay  clown  at  night  his  brain  was  at  rest.  He 
lived  (unless  cut  off  by  accident  or  some  acute  disease) 
until  his  worn-out  muscular  system  fell  to  pieces  like  an 
old   wagon. 

But  how  is  it  now  ?  Men  do  not  grapple  with  their 
surroundings  with  their  muscles,  but  with  their  brains. 
Every  man  is  tr3nng  to  make  his  head  save  his  hands. 

The  Exchange,  the  Board  of  Trade  and  the  Stock 
Market  absorb  his  attention  all  day  and  sometimes  all 
night.  Those  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  these  modern 
brain  destroying  engines  are  not  the  only  ones  affected 
by  them.  There  are  men  in  e\'ery  city,  town  and  vil- 
lage in  the  country  who  are  constantly  worrying,  day 
and  night,  as  to  the  best  way  to  overcome  their  fellow 
man.  The  part  of  the  system  most  used  and  most  ex- 
cited is  the  part  that  gives  way  first.  If  the  brain  is  the 
organ  it  is  apt  to  be  the  first  to  suffer.  From  this  con- 
stantl}^  maintained  hyper-physiological  state  it,  after  a 
while,  becomes  a  pathological  state.  The  arteries  be- 
come diseased,  break  down  under  sudden  excitement  or 
strain,  and  the  man  is  paralyzed. 

If  the  blood  vessels  do  not  break  the  congestion  con- 
tinues and  the  man  is  insane;  or  perhaps,  under  the  ex- 
citement of  the  delusions  and  fears  brought  on  by  these 
conditions,  he  commits  suicide.     This  explains  it  all. 

This  is  not  the  only  contrast  that  one  might  draw 
between  then  and  now. 

The  old  man  and  the  old  woman — the  pioneers — 
must  die  after  a  while    and    then  their  sons  and  daugh- 


112  Then  and  Now. 

ters  take  their  places.  In  their  time  comes  more  com- 
forts and  more  of  the  arts  of  civiHzed  hfe.  The  school 
house  is  built  and  the  teacher  comes  to  "  teach  the 
young  idea  how  to  shoot."  After  a  while  the  big  steam- 
boats come  plowing  their  way  up  the  big  rivers  and 
commerce  is  established  with  the  outside  world.  The 
enterprising  ones  get  rid  of  their  surplus  products  ;  men 
begin  to  buy  and  sell,  and  some  grow  rich.  Riches  thus 
acquired  are  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion. With  this  wealth  men  begin  to  buy  ease,  comfort 
and  idleness.  Young  men  able  to  live  without  it  do  not 
labor  as  a  rule.  The  head  of  the  household  in  the  sec- 
ond or  third  generation  from  the  old  pioneer  takes  it 
into  his  head  that  his  children  are  too  good  to  work. 
His  education  is  better  than  that  of  his  father  or  his 
grandfather;  his  sensibilities  are  keener  and  he  feels 
that  it  is  hard  to  make  Charlie  work  when  there  is  no 
use  of  it.  Charles  Augustus,  with  his  sister  Arabella,  is 
therefore  sent  to  school  in  the  neighborhood  eight  or  ten 
months  out  of  the  year.  During  the  long  and  hot  sum- 
mer days,  when  the  hired  hands  are  harvesting  the  crop, 
Charles  Augustus  lies  on  his  back  in  the  shade  of  the 
trees  and  reads — what.^  He  reads  blood  and  thunder 
novels  ;  that  kind  of  literature  which  makes  heroes  of 
burglars,  and  great  men  of  horse  thieves.  ''  Pitiless 
Pete,  the  Pirate,"  "  Slippery  Sam,  the  Slaughterer," 
and  "One-e3'ed  Ike,  the  Red-handed  Ranger  of  the 
Roaring  Rockies,"  and  "  The  Red  Right  Hand  of  De 
Benjamin  McGinnis.'"  He  knows  all  about  prizj  fights 
and  all  sorts  of  sports,  but  not  a  thing  about  his  father's 


Then  and  Now.  113 

farm  which  is  being  run  by  others  right  under  his  nose. 
His  sister  is  very  much  hke  him.  They  both  rise  in  the 
morning  at  nine,  ten  or  eleven  o'clock.  Arabella  gives 
her  attention  to  the  styles  in  the  magazines  while  C. 
Augustus  pursues  his  hero.  After  a  while  they  are 
both  sent  away  to  a  college  and  female  seminary  in  the 
same  town.  C.  Augustus  here  begins  to  show  the 
effects  of  his  home  training.  He  finds  himself  behind 
poor  boys  who  are  working  their  way  through  college. 
But  he  don't  care — 

"  It  is  so  deuced  hard,  you  know.'' 

He  compromises  by  dressing  in  the  latest  style, 
parts  his  hair  in  the  middle  and  stands  upon  the  front  of 
the  college  building  or  upon  the  streets  of  mornings  and 
evenings  and  "mashes  "  the  girls  as  they  pass  and  tugs 
unremittingly  at  a  young  and  struggling  mustache. 

But  C.  Augustus  swims.  If  he  can  not  study  he 
can  dress,  and  his  father's  money  freely  spent  gives  him 
an  entree  into  "  our  best  society  '' — whatever  that  is. 

Let's  compare  C.  Augustus  with  the  "  founder  of 
the  family  '' — his  grand  or  great  grandfather,  as  the  case 
may  be.  Let  them  stand  up  side  by  side  and  we  will 
note  the  change  wrought   by   education  and  civilization. 

The  old  man  is  six  feet  two  inches  in  his  stocking 
feet,  parts  his  hair  on  the  side,  wears  "  stable  door,'' 
brown  jeans  pants  (the  kind  that  have  a  flap  that  lets 
down  in  front  like  the  hind  gate  of  an  express  wagon) 
has  a  hand  like  a  Cincinnati  ham,  No.  10  feet,  and 
weighs  one  hundred  and  ninety.  C.  Augustus  is  five 
feet  five,    parts    his  hair  in   the   meridian,   wears   dude 


114 


Now  AND  Then. 


clothes  from  head  to  foot,  has  hands  Hke  a  lady  and  feet 
after  the  same  pattern.  C.  Augustus  may  know  more 
about  the  world  than  the  old  man,  but  his  great  ances- 
tor could  take  him  b}^  the  collar  with  one  hand  and 
throw  him  over  a  ten  rail  fence  without  even  grunting. 

But  these  are 
not  the  only 
differences  i  n 
these  two  peo- 
ple. This  con- 
trast is  great 
enough  but 
there  is  a  still 
greater  con- 
trast i  n  their 
habits,  tastes, 
manners,  and 
feelinofs.  C. 
Augustus 
would  not  be 
seen  walking 
-  on  the  street 
with  a  poor  per- 

C.  AUGUSTUS  AND  HIS  GRANDFATHER.    SOU,  ("common 

people,''  he  calls  them)  nor  help  a  poor  woman  out  of 
the  mud  for  any  consideration.  The  old  man  will  do 
anything  that  he  believes  to  be  right,  just  and  good 
and  is  not  ashamed.  C.  Augustus  would  rather  violate 
the  laws  of  his  country  than  the  laws  of  etiquette,  so- 
called,  which  govern  society.     The  old  man   would  not 


Then  and  Now. 


"5 


violate  the  laws  of  the  land  under  any  circumstances, 
but  he  cares  not  a  fig  for  etiquette.  He  does  not  know 
what  it  means  and  he  does  not  care. 

C.  Augustus  has  been  taught  in  his  book  on  eti- 
quette that  none  but  the  most  horribly  brutal  natures 
ever  put  their  knives  in  their  mouths  when  eating ;  and 
the  danger  to  which  he  exposes  himself  of  cutting  his 
cheek  clear  back  to  his  ear  has  been  fully  impressed 
upon  him.      He  will  therefore  struggle    with  a  piece  of 

pie,  with  a   soggy,  tough, 


sole-leather  bottom,  with 
his  fork  for  an  hour  be- 
fore he  will  dare  to  cut  or 
lift  it  with  his  knife.  He 
puts  his  fork  in  his  mouth 
with  impunity  because  et- 
iquette has  never  warned 
him  against  the  danger  of 
prodding  and  perforating 
his  pharynx.  The  old 
man  eats  in  a  way  that 
suits  himself.  When  he 
comes  to  pie,  instead  of 
wallowing  it  around  with 
a  dull  fork  he  picks  it  up  with  his  hand  by  that  part 
which  represents  the  arc  of  a  circle,  and,  advancing  the 
acute  angle  into  his  capacious  mouth,  he  closes  on  it, 
and  when  he  lays  it  down  it  looks  like  a  three  years  old 
mule  had  trod  on  it. 

While  at  college  there  comes  all  at  once  the  most 


"and  when  he  lays  it  down 

IT    LOOKS    LIKE     a     three 

YEARS       OLD      MULE        HAD 

TROD    ON    IT." 


ii6  Then  and  Now. 

dreadful  news  to  C.  Augustus  and  Arabella  from 
home.  Their  father  has  been  speculating,  is  caught  on 
the  wrong  side,  is  "  pinched,"  "  squeezed  "  and  finally 
"  crushed,"  and  has  made  an  assignment  for  the  benefit 
of  his  creditors.  He  writes  that  he  "hasn't  got  a  dollar 
in  the  world."  C.  Augustus  and  Arabella  may  flatter 
themselves  that  "  our  set  "  in  society  will  take  care  of 
them  ;  but  poor,  dear  things,  how  mistaken  they  are, 
and  how  little  they  know  about  a  society  to  which  they 
have  been  so  much  devoted.  Society  would  have  done 
anything  for  them  so  long  as  Col.  Johnson  (their  Pa) 
was  rich  ;  but  now  it  will  do  nothing.  C.  Augustus  will 
try  to  get  a  place  in  the  store  where  he  can  still  keep 
his  hands  white  and  soft,  part  his  hair  at  the  noonday 
point  and  talk  soft  nonsense  across  the  counter  to  the 
girk ;  but  the  merchant  does  not  want  a  3'oung  man 
who  has  learned  nothing,  knows  nothing  and  can  do 
nothing.  C.  Augustus  then  begins  a  tiresome  job  for 
Street,  Walker  and  Dolittle.  He  becomes  a  "  brick 
presser  "  hunting  for  a  soft  place.  There  is  a  plenty  of 
work  at  good  wages  amongst  the  farmers,  but,  oh,  no  ; 
he  wouldn't  do  that  for  the  world: 

"  What  would  '  our  set '  think  of  such  conduct,  you 
know." 

He  borrows  from  old  friends  until  they  get  tired  and 
refuse  ;  his  credit  for  clothing  and  board  is  no  longer 
good,  and  finally,  in  his  desperation  he  goes  to  his  room, 
writes  his  parents  and  his  girl  a  pathetic  note  on  the 
"  trials  of  life,"  of   which    he,  poor  fool,  knows  nothing, 


Then  and  Now.  117 

and  then  takes  a  pistol  and  blows  his  poor  little  brains 
into  batter. 

Arabella  visits  (at  her  own  invitation)  some  of  her 
girl  acquaintances  until  she  plainly  sees  that  she  has 
worn  out  her  welcome  ;  then  she  decides  to  teach  music. 
This  will  give  her  a  living  and  still  keep  her  in  "  good 
society ;'"  but  she  soon  finds  out  that  she  knows  little  or 
nothing  about  music.  She  has  learned  to  "  bang  "  the 
piano  as  she  learned  to  "  bang  "  her  hair  ;  but  "  bang- 
ing ''  the  piano  and  giving  other  people  the  toothache 
will  not  do.  She  tries  and  tries  again  and  fails.  Then 
she  retires  to  her  room  and  writes  a  pathetic  note  to  Pa 
and  Ma  and  dear  George  (who  is  already  courting  an- 
other girl)  takes  a  dose  of  strychnia  and  turns  up  her 
delicate,  tapering  toes  to  the  nodding  daisies. 

This  is  a  sad,  sad  ending  of  the  once  prosperous 
Johnson  family,  is  it  not,  reader  ? 

Now,  really  and  candidly,  what  was  the  matter 
here  ?  Why  should  two  young  people  who  have  had 
the  very  best  advantages  in  life,  turn  around  at  the  first 
little  trouble  and  commit  self  destruction  ?  What 
would  the  old  pioneer,  the  hardy,  founder  of  the  fam- 
ily have  done  under  like  circumstances  ?  He  would 
have  taken  the  proper  implements  of  war  and  would 
have  plunged  into  the  forest  and  would  there  have  grap- 
pled with  the  trees,  the  streams  and  the  wild  beasts  and 
would  have  wrested  from  them  the  right  to  continue  his 
existence  until  his  allotted  time  came.  The  great  ma- 
ternal ancestor  would  have  done  something  but  she 
would     never    have  thought    of   strichnia  as  a  remedy 


ii8  Then  and  Now. 

for  her  ills.  Why  didn't  Arabella  and  C.  Augustus 
do  as  their  great  ancestors  would  have  done  under 
like  circumstances  ?  Education,  dear  reader,  education. 
They  had  been  taught  differently.  They  had  been 
taught  that  people  in  their  "station  ''  should  not  labor 
under  any  circumstances.  They  think  it  degrading  and 
dishonorable. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  degrading  than  an  educa- 
tion like  that  and  nothing  more  dishonorable  than  that 
which  results  from  such  an  education.  There  may  be 
circumstances  in  which  the  best  and  most  sensible  thing 
a  man  can  do  is  to  take  his  own  life.  But  to  take  one's 
life  under  the  circumstances  herein  detailed  is  dishonora- 
ble and  cowardly  in  the  highest  degree.  I  have  known 
an  able  bodied  man  with  a  wife  and  two  or  three  chil- 
dren to  take  his  own  life  in  a  most  cowardly  way,  be- 
cause he  could  not  get  an  easy  job,  and  leave  the  poor 
wife  and  helpless  children  to  battle  alone  with  an  un- 
feeling and  unfriendly  world.  This  is  a  most  cowardly 
way  of  shirking  responsibilities  and  a  most  dishonorable 
refusal  to  "face  the  music." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS    AND    FOOL- 
ISH  IDEAS. 

ANTIQUITY  OF  SUPERSTITION — MAN  A  SUPERSTITIOUS  ANI- 
MAI< — "signs" — CROWING  HENS,  BEI^IvOWING  COWS,  ETC. — LOS- 
ING HER  "cud" — m'GEE'S  DIAGNOSIS — BIBLE  WITCHERY- 
RAISING  HER  PALATE — THE  SILVER  PLATE,  ETC. — PASSING  THE 
HANDKERCHIEF — NEGRO   SUPERSTITIONS. 


:UPERSTITION  is  of  great  antiq. 
uity.  The  young  world  was  very 
ignorant  and  ignorance  is  the  foun- 
dation of  superstition.  Unlearned  men 
in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  world,  witness- 
ing natural  phenomena  and  not  being 
able  to  give  a  rational  explanation,  at- 
tributed their  occurrence  to  supernat- 
ural causes.  The  history  of  the  world 
and  the  greatest  achievements  of  the 
greatest  i-nen  that  have  ever  lived,  are  blotted  and 
blurred  all  over  with  acts  grounded  in  the  darkest  super- 
stition. The  histories  of  the  Greeks,  the  Romans  and 
the  early  German  races  show  them  to  have  been  so  full 
of  superstition  that  we  are  made  to  wonder  how  they 
could  have  been  great.  The  man,  in  our  day,  who 
would  decide  upon  going  to  war  or  upon  bringing  on  a 
battle,  or  any  other  important  matter,  by  the  turn  of  a 


120      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

blaze  of  fire  or  something  else  as  foolish,  would  not  be 
tolerated  and  would  not  be  allowed  at  the  head  of  affairs 
in  any  position,  civil  or  military,  any  longer  than  it  would 
take  to  appoint  his  successor. 

The  most  enlightened  people  of  the  present  day 
have  descended  from  an  ancestiy,  either  near  or  remote, 
who  were  ignorant,  and  therefore  superstitious.  The 
superstitious  ideas  of  those  ancestors  have  come  down 
as  a  part  of  the  inheritance,  and  many  persons  of  educa- 
tion will  suffer  themselves  to  be  impressed  and  influ- 
enced by  them  almost  in  spite  of  themselves. 

The  gamblers,  who,  as  a  rule,  are  a  shrewd  and 
smart  set,  are  blindly  superstitious  concerning  many 
trivial  things  in  connection  with  their  vocation. 

If  people  are  superstitious  concerning  anything  they 
are  sure  to  be  so  concerning  medicine,  sickness  and  rem- 
edies. In  my  early  recollection  there  were  some  very 
strange  superstitions — some  in  connection  with  sickness 
and  medicine,  some  that  were  not.  Many  of  those 
things  are  believed  by  many  people  yet — not  only  in  the 
West,  but  in  the  East — everywhere. 

A  belief  in  ghosts  and  witches  was  not  dead  in  the 
second  quarter  of  the  present  century  and  it  is  not  dead 
yet — everywhere.  In  the  backwoods,  forty  years  ago, 
a  belief  in  such  things  was  quite  common,  and  there 
were  "  signs  "  innumerable — a  "  sign  "  for  this  and  a 
"  sign  "  for  that — bad  signs  in  particular.  It  was  a  bad 
sign  to  see  the  new,  full  moon  through  a  tree  top  or 
through  anything  that  obscured  it ;  but  if  3'ou  could  see 
it  for  the  first  time  full  and  fair  over  the  right  shoulder 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     121 

it  brought  good  luck.  It  was  a  bad  sign  for  any  one  of 
the  household  to  take  up  a  chair  and  twirl  it  around  on 
one  of  its  legs.  It  was  a  bad  sign  for  a  male  person  to 
come  into  the  house  with  an  axe  or  hoe  or  any  sharp 
implement  on  his  shoulder.  He  must  either  go  straight 
through,  if  there  were  an  opposite  door,  or  back  out  the 
way  he  came;  but,  in  the  name  of  all  the  Deities,  he 
must  not  take  the  implement  from  his  shoulder  until  he 
was  outside  again. 

There  was  a  superstition  in  regard  to  crowing  hens 
and  bellowing  cows.  It  is  a  fact  that,  from  some  cause 
or  other — the  breaking  up  of  her  nest  or  the  loss  of  her 
chickens  or  some  such  calamity  that  befalls  her — a  hen 
will  take  it  into  her  head  to  crow  and  will  go  about 
crowing  in  a  wild,  boisterous  and  insane  way,  for  days  ; 
and  that  a  cow  will  also  try  to  assume  the  functions  of  a 
male  by  going  about  and  bellowing.  We  see  the  same 
things  sometimes  in  certain  women,  who  seem  to  desire 
to  assume  the  functions  of  the  stronger  sex,  and  they 
generally  succeed  about  as  well  as  the  hen  and  the  cow 
— for  I  never  heard  a  hen  crow  nor  a  cow  bellow  that 
could  deceive  me  for  a  moment. 

These  crowing  hens  and  bellowing  cows  were  a 
great  terror  to  the  superstitious.  Something  was  going 
to  happen  ;  somebody  was  going  to  die ;  the  hen  must 
be  killed,  and  the  cow  (being  too  valuable  to  kill)  must 
be  beaten  away  from  the  place  with  sticks  and  stones. 
If  a  bird  flew  into  the  house  it  was  a  sign  that  some  one 
was  going  to  die.  If  a  person  were  sick  and  one  of 
these  messengers  (taking    refuge   in  its  terrorized  flight 


122      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

from  a  pursuing  hawk)  flew  into  the  house,  it  was  a  very 
bad  sign.  It  did  no  good  to  cite  the  fact  that  nobody 
got  sick,  or  that  the  sick  person  got  well,  after  one  of 
these  strange  visitations.     It  was  still  a  bad  sign. 

There  were  "  faith  doctors  "  in  those  days.  They 
cured  everything — especially  the  maladies  that  are  incur- 
able. Cancer  was  their  great  forte.  They  did  nothing 
but  simply  look  at  the  patient  and,  perhaps  lay  a  hand 
on  him.  If  one  person  in  a  thousand  who  visited  these 
reputed  faith  doctors  recovered,  it  was  sufficient  to  for- 
ever establish  the  reputation  of  the  "doctor."  There 
are  "faith  doctors"  now,  but  there  are  not  so  many,  I 
hope,  who  believe  in  them. 

The  people  had  a  peculiar  idea  about  a  cow  "  losing 
her  cud."  If  a  cow  got  sick  from  any  cause  there  were 
the  knowing  ones  who  were  ready  to  declare  that  she 
had  "lost  her  cud.''  They  knew  the  symptoms.  They 
did  not  know  that  a  cow  has  three  stomachs,  and  that 
the  first  and  largest  is  only  a  great  receptacle  into  which 
she  hurriedly  passes  her  food  when  feeding,  and  that  she 
afterwards,  when  quietly  standing  or  lying,  belches  up  a 
mass  and  chews  it  and  then,  by  swallowing  it  in  proper 
condition  passes  it  into  the  second  stomach,  and  that,  in 
case  she  should  drop  her  cud  from  any  cause,  all  she 
would  have  to  do  would  be  to  simply  belch  to  get  an- 
other; or  in  case  the  first  stomach  were  empty,  to  go 
and  eat  something. 

There  were  people  who  professed  to  be  able  to  give 
a  cow  her  lost  cud.  These  were  generally  old  women 
and  negroes.      If  the  old  woman  were  quite  old,  lean  and 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     123 

skinny,  so  much  the  better.  I  have  seen  those  cuds. 
They  were  made,  generally,  of  fat  meat,  horse  hair  and 
some  other  things  which  a  cow  never  eats  when  she  is 
well,  and  which,  one  would  think,  would  be  calculated 
to  make  a  cow  sick  if  given  her  when  she  was  well.  It 
is  pitiful  to  think  how  the  poor  brutes  suffered  while 
those  ignorant  people  were  ramming  this  nasty  xiiass 
down  their  poor  throats. 

A  few  years  ago  I  wrote  a  series  of  papers  under 
the  heading  of  "  Popular  Fallacies,''  for  a  local  paper, 
and  in  one  of  them  exposed  this  very  subject.  The 
next  morning  I  met  a  friend,  a  very  intelligent  gentle- 
man, who  was  at  that  time  the  General  Passenger 
Agent  of  a  great  railroad.  He  said  to  me,  "  Doctor,  I 
read  your  article  and  I  am  glad  you  wrote  it ;  for  I  have 
a  sick  cow  and  there  was  a  negro  man  at  my  house 
making  her  a  new  cud  while  I  was  reading  it.  I  instant- 
ly went  out  and  stopped  him.  The  negro  thinks  you 
are  wrong,  but  your  explanation  satisfied  me." 

In  a  neighborhood  where  I  once  lived  there  was  an 
Irishman  who  professed  to  be  a  veterinary  surgeon. 
They  did  not  call  them  veterinary  surgeons  in  those 
days ;  they  were  horse  farriers.  The  Irishman  did  not 
know  anything  about  the  diseases  of  animals,  but  he  was 
full  of  the  superstitious  nonsense  of  those  days .  Among 
other  things  he  knew  how  to  "give  a  cow  her  cud." 
But  Mac.  was  destined  to  come  to  grief. 

He  was  sent  for  in  the  case  of  a  sick  cow.  After  a 
most  critical  examination  of  the  cow  he  exclaimed, 
"  Phy,  yez  ought  to  know  phat'sthe  matter  wid  the  cow  ; 


124      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

she's  loisth  her  cood."  He  at  once  prepared  the  abom- 
inable bolus  which  was  to  supply  the  "  loisth  cood."  He 
thrust  it  down  her  throat  as  well  as  he  could  with  his 
hand  and  arm  and  then  took  the  butt  end  of  a  black 
snake  whip  and  used  it  as  a  ram  rod.  He  either  made 
his  substitute  too  large  or  he  got  it  into  the  windpipe — 


"EF  YEZ  never  seen  a  cow  PHAT'S    died    from  the  I.OSIN'  av 
HER  COOD  YEZ  SEE  IT  NOW." 

the  cow,    after   a  short  struggle,  straightened  out    and 
died. 

Some  one  remarked,  "  She's  dead.''  After  contem- 
plating her  very  seriously  for  a  few  moments  Mc  Gee 
said,  "  Yes,   she's    dead  ;  an'    ef  yez  never  seen  a  cow 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.      125 

phat's  died  from  the  losin'  av  her  cood  yez  see  it  now," 
and  he  departed. 

But  the  cause  of    the  death  was  too  plain. 

At  another  time  there  was  a  public  sale  in  the 
neighborhood.  There  was  a  great  crowd.  Somebody's 
horse  took  sick  with  colic,  or  something  more  serious. 
The  horse  was  lying  down  and  there  was  a  great 
crowd  around  him,  each  man  suggesting  a  different  rem- 
edy, and  each  clinching  the  argument  in  favor  of  his 
abomination  by  the  statement  that  he  "never  knowed  it 
to  fail." 

Mac.  was  walking  around  on  the  outside  of  the 
crowd  with  a  sort  of  assumed  professional  air,  expect- 
ing to  be  called,  but  everybody  knew  about  the  cow 
"that  died  from  losin'  av  her  cood,"  and  the  owner  was 
afraid  of  Mac's  heroic  remedies. 

Finally  the  horse  died.  The  crowd  broke  up  and 
separated.  As  I  walked  away  alongside  of  Mac.  I  said, 
"Well,  Mac,  the  horse  died." 

"  Phy,  av  coorse  the  harse  died,"  said  Mac.  indig- 
nantly, "  Av  coorse  he  died,  an'  there   wasn't  a  d 

wan  o'  yez  that  knowed  phat  was  the  matther  wid  um." 

"  What  do  you  think  was  the  matter  with  him, 
Mac  ?"  I  innocently  asked. 

"Phat  do  I  think?''  exclaimed  Mac,  still  more 
indignant,  "  Phat  do  I  tJiink?  I  don't  think,  \  know, 
but  not  a  d — n  wan  o'  yez  knowed  phat  wus  the  matter 

wid  um  ;  not    a    d wan  o'  yez.     No    wundther   the 

harse  died!" 


126      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

"Well,"  I  asked,  "what  was  the  matter  with  him, 
Mac?" 

"  Phat  was  the  matther  wnd  um?''  asked  Mac. 
"  Phy  it  was  plain  enough  to  anny  man  that's  got  his 
two  eyes  in  his  head;  the  throuble  was  the  hairf  lay  too 
near  the  midriff,  an'  fin  the  hairt  bate,  the  ligament 
jumped  aff  the  spine  and  the  hairt  quit  batin'  an'  the 
harse  died,     Anny  d fool  ought  to  know  that." 

I  must  beg  pardon  for  indicating  Mac's  profanity 
here,  but  his  statement  of  the  etiology  and  pathology  of 
the   case  would  be  incomplete  without  it. 

There  are  some  things  which  people  believe  in 
regard  to  medicine  which  might  be  viewed  in  the  light 
of  ignorant  tradition  merely,  and  yet  they  are  so  absurd 
that  one  must  be  superstitious  in  order  to  believe  them. 

There  are  thousands  of  people  in  the  world  who 
have  an  unfaltering  faith  in  certain  barks — sometimes  I 
find  it  one  kind  of  bark,  sometimes  another ;  but  the  vir- 
tues attributed  to  it  are  that,  if  peeled  upward  and  a  tea 
made  of  it,  it  will  act  as  an  emetic,  and  if  peeled  down- 
ward it  will  act  as  a  cathartic. 

There  was  one  superstition  with  which  I  became 
acquainted  when  a  boy,  and  I  have  met  it  everywhere. 
It  is  the  process  of  stopping  hemorrhage  by  a  kind  of 
ceremony,  the  operator,  or  the  person  w^ho  is  doing  the 
hcemostatic  act,  not  being  necessarily  present  with  the 
bleeding  person.  In  my  boyhood  there  was  a  woman 
in  almost  every  neighborhood  who  pretended  to  be 
blessed  with  this  very  desirable  accomplishment. 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     127 

The  operation  consisted  in  repeating  a  certain  verse, 
or  verses,  in  a  certain  chapter  in  some  part  of  the  Bible. 
The  power  to  do  this  could  be  communicated  to  another  ; 
but  could  not  be  given  by  a  woman  to  a  woman,  nor  to 
a  man  by  a  man.  The  secret  was  given  me  by  a  woman 
once  but,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that,  since  I  have  been  lig- 
ating  arteries  and  veins  with  silk  and  cat-gut,  I  have  for 
gotten  the  magic  verse. 

These  people  often  succeed — in  their  minds — be- 
cause most  small  hemorrhages  cease  without  inter- 
ference. 

Only  a  few  years  ago  a  reputable  medical  friend  of 
/nine  was  attending  a  man  for  an  extensive  cellulitis  of 
the  leg  and  thigh.  When  the  case  was  at  its  worst  and 
he  expected  to  use  the  lancet  at  the  next  visit  a  boy 
came  into  his  office  and  said: 

"  Dr.  J.  you  needn't  come  up  to  Mr.  L's  this 
morning.'" 

"Why,"  asked  the  doctor,  "is  L.  dead?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  boy,  "  but  Mrs.  M.  is  a  doc- 
torin'  him.'' 

"  Who  is  Mrs.  M.?"  the  do(?tor  inquired. 

"  Oh,  she's  a  woman  that  lives  acrost  the  street." 

"  What  does  she  know  about  it  ?''  the  doctor  asked. 

"Oh,  she  knows  lots.  She's  cured  more'n  a  hun- 
dred cases  like  it.  She's  got  somethin'  that  never 
fails." 

"What  is  she  doing  for  it?''  was  asked. 


128      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas 

''  Why,  she  tied  a  silk  string  around  his  leg  and 
read  some  verses  over  it  out  of  the  Bible." 

Now,  my  intelligent  reader  may  be  ready  to  exclaim 
that  this  sort  of  blind  and  ignorant  superstition  could 
not  occur  anywhere  except  in  the  uncultured  West. 

For  the  benefit  of  such  person  I  will  truthfully  state 
that  Mrs.  M.,  the  sorceress  in  this  case,  was  from  the 
cultured  East. 

There  is  also  a  false  and  very  foolish  belief  among 
the  laity  about  "  the  palate  coming  down."  In  some 
forms  of  posterior  nasal  and  throat  inflammations  there 
is  a  very  serious  choking  sensation.  In  such  cases 
many  think  that  the  "  palate  has  come  down,"  and  many 
and  ludicrous  are  the  methods  resorted  to  to  "  raise  the 
palate  up." 

I  have  not  the  space  to  record  all  of  them,  but  will 
give  one: 

I  was  called  once  in  my  early  practice  to  see  a  boy, 
who,  the  messenger  said,  "  had  got  his  palate  down  and 
couldn't  get  it  up."  When  I  arrived  at  the  house  I 
found  the  whole  family  assembled  in  one  room  and  all 
very  much  excited.  In*  one  corner  of  the  room,  near  an 
open  window,  sat  the  unhappy  victim  of  this  curious 
accident,  and  an  old  lady  (of  course  such  a  delicate 
operation  could  not  be  entrusted  to  any  one  except  the 
old  lady  "  who  had  nussed  more  sick  folks  than  anybody 
else  in  the  neighborhood  ")  standing  over  him,  with  a 
stick,  twice  as  large  as  a  pencil  and  six  inches  long, 
twisted  into  a  wisp  of  hair  on  the  crown  of  his  head. 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     129 


"'  I  got  it  up  jest  so  fur  an'  couldn't  git  it  any  fur- 
der ;  so  I  jest  hilt  it  where  I  had  it  an'  waited  fur  you 
to  come." 

The  boy's  face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  protruding  and 
his  mouth  wide  open.  There  was  an  expression  of  fear 
and  apprehension  on  his  face,  as  if  he  expected  "to  hear 
somethin'  pop  '"  when  the  palate  went  back. 

The  old 
lady  gave 
an  extra 
hitch  on 
her  stick 
and  the 
boy'seyes 
bulged 
out  a  lit- 
tle more 
a  n  d  h  e 
raised  up 
about  two 
inches 
off    t  h  e 

"l  GOT  IT  UP  JEST  so  FUR  AN'  COULDN'T  GIT  IT  ANY      chair.         1 

furder."  untwisted 

the  stick  and  swabbed  his  throat  with  a  solution  of 
nitrate  of  silver  and  the  "  palate  went  back  "  in  a  very 
short  time. 

Certain  persons  also   have   unbounded   faith    in  dog 
oil,  snake  oil   and   fish  worms,   as    ingredients   for    lini- 


130      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

ments  for  rheumatism  and  for  swelling's  about  joints.  If 
I  remember  aright  these  same  things  and  others  still 
more  ridiculous  were  extolled  as  remedies  by  Aristotle 
centuries  ago. 

In  my  early  practice  I  was  called  to  see  a  sick  man 
at  a  saw  mill.  He  was  a  strapping  big  fellow,  and  had 
been  down  with  articular  rheumatism  for  some  time. 
As  I  was  the  second  physician  in  the  case,  the  other  hav- 
ing failed  to  do  hnn  any  good,  I  was  doubly  anxious  to 
relieve  him.  I  think  I  saw  the  case  three  times  and 
then  gave  orders  for  the  family  to  report  to  me.  I 
heard  nothing  of  the  case  for  several  months  and  so  con- 
cluded that  my  last  prescription  had  done  the  work. 
One  day,  three  months  afterward,  this  big  fellow  walked 
into  my  office  with  an  air  of  bravado  and  a  swaggering 
salt  which  I  took  to  be  natural  with  him.  I  did  not 
recognize  him  until  he  gave  his  name. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Williamson,""  I  said,  *'  you  are  the  man 
who  had  rheumatism  so  bad.  The  last  medicine  did 
the  work  did  it  ?     I  thought  it  would." 

"  Naw,  sir,"  said  Williamson,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  and  unbuttoning  his  vest.  "  Naw,  sir,  it  didn't  do 
me  no  good  at  all.  Ef  Td  a  depended  on  you  doctors  Td 
a  been  dead,  long  ago.  But  Pve  found  somethin'  that 
will  knock  it  as  cold  as  a  wedge  ;  an'  what's  more  it'll 
knock  it  every  time.  Look  at  that,"  said  he  as  he  tri- 
umphantly went  down  to  his  waist  and  untied  and  brought 
forth  a  rattlesnake  skin  which  he  had  been  wearino- 
under  his  clothing  as  a  belt. 

There  was  no  use  in    arguing   the  case.      The  facts 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     131 

were  against  me.  The  most  that  I  could  do  was  to 
present  WilHamson  with  his  bill,  which  he  paid  under 
protest. 

Many  people  have  a  tradition  about  a  silver  plate 
being  put  in  the  skull  in  place  of  bone  lost  in  injuries  to 
the  head.  In  every  neighborhood  that  I  have  lived  in 
there  has  been  some  person  who  either  believed  or 
affected  to  believe  that  he  was  wearing  a  silver  plate. 
I  knew  two  or  three  of  those  silver  plated  fellows  in  my 
boyhood,  and  so  I  grew  up  a  strong  convert  to  the  sil- 
ver plate  theory,  which  I  strenuously  held  until  it  was 
lectured  out  of  me  by  an  eminent  surgeon.  So  strong 
is  this  belief  with  most  people  that  many  a  country  doc- 
tor loses  his  popularit}^  in  cases  where  he  must  remove 
large  portions  of  fractured  and  detached  skull  in  recent 
injuries.  The  b3^standers  will  insist  that  he  ought  to  do 
it,  and,  if  the  patient  dies  afterward,  they  are  apt  to 
attribute  the  death  to  the  fact  that  the  silver  plate  was 
omitted.  The  local  papers  in  my  town  a  few  years  ago, 
in  giving  accounts  of  accidents  to  different  persons  in 
whom  the  skull  was  fractured,  repeated  the  statement 
that  "the  doctor  skillfully  inserted  a  silver  plate  to 
replace  the  lost  bone." 

They  finally  stated  that  I  had  performed  this  won- 
derful operation  on  one  of  my  patients  who  had  suffered 
from  a  fracture  of  the  skull  with  the  loss  of  a  large 
amount  of  bone.  I  had  my  fears  that,  perhaps,  the 
profession  had  lent  itself  to  this  fraud  by  not  denying  it. 
Many  doctors  are  willing  to  take  the  credit  of  having 
done  brilliant  things — whether  they  have  done  them  or 


132      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

not.  I  presume  that  I  am  as  willing  as  any  one  to  take 
credit  to  myself  for  what  I  actually  do.  I  think  that  is 
both  laudable  and  defensible,  but  I  never  saw  the  day 
when  I  desired  to  profit  by  a  falsehood  and  by  the  prop- 
agation of  an  unreasonable  and  lying  theory.  Feeling 
that  the  truth  about  this  thing,  as  about  all  things, 
ought  to  be  known  I  wrote  an  article  for  the  paper  deny- 
ing that  I  had  done  such  an  operation,  and  stating  posi- 
tively that  no  such  operation  had  ever  been  success- 
fully performed — giving  scientific  reasons  as  to  why  it 
could  not  succeed,  and  concluded  by  offering  one  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  production  of  a  single  case  where 
the  fact  of  the  successful  performance  of  such  an  opera- 
tion could  be  demonstrated. 

My  office  was  besieged  for  a  week  with  people  of 
all  grades  of  society — learned  and  unlearned — claiming 
the  reward.  They  all  knew  people  with  silver  bearing 
crania,  but  they  neglected  to  bring  them  along. 

An  intellio:ent  minister — with  a  collecfiate  education 
— knew  three  persons  who  had  silver  in  their  heads. 
They  all  wanted  the  reward,  but  no  one  could  bring  a 
patient  with  a  quarter  in  his  skull.  Of  course,  I  sat 
back  and  read  my  terms  from  the  paper  and  said, 
"  bring  on  your  man,  demonstrate  the  fact  and  get  your 
money." 

Nobody  could  do  it. 

A  most  ridiculous  circumstance  happened  to  me 
about  a  year  after  this. 

Coming  out  of  my  office  one  afternoon  I  met  one  of 
those  self  conceited  and  trifling  sort  of  fellows  who  hang 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Idkas.     133 

about  the  street  corners  on  pretense  of  awaiting  employ- 
ment and  run  at  the  first  approach  of  an  employer  ;  who 
hang  about  saloons  and  salute  all  respectable  looking 
men  who  approach  the  bar  with  friendly  recognition  and 
effusive  compliments,  with  the  expectation  of  a  treat, 
while  their  poor  slab  sided  wives  take  in  washing. 
This  fellow  had  the  deeply  imprinted  lines  about  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth  of  an  egotistical  ass,  and  natural  born 
liar  written  in  an  indellible  hand  all  over  his  fjice.  He 
introduced  me  to  a  fellow  lounger,  much  like  himself, 
but  not  quite  so  talkative. 

"  Ef  ye  ever  want  a  doctor,^'  said  he  to  his  friend, 
"  here^s  the  man  that  can  raise  ye  from  the  dead.  He 
can  come  as  near  to  it  as  the  next  'un.  Jest  as  soon  cut 
yer  leg  off  as  to  look  at  ye.  I've  seed  the  Doc.  in  blood 
up  to  his  eyes  and,  you  bet,  he  never  flinches.  I  seed 
him  take  out  a  hull  lot  of  a  feller's  skull  onst,  an'  put  in 
a  big  silver  plate  in  its  place.  The  Doc.  tho't  I  wusn't 
lookin',  but  I  seed  'im  when  he  done  it.  You  bet  he's 
sly,  ef  he  ain't  afeard." 

This  compliment  was  too  much  ;  I  didn't  deny  it 
and  went  away  feeling  like  a  sneak. 

I  think  popular  prejudice  in  favor  of  this  standing 
falsehood  springs  from  this  fact  :  In  injuries  to  the 
skull  where  a  part  of  the  outer  table  is  lost  it  is  frequent- 
ly the  case  that  the  periostium  (the  covering  of  the 
bone)  is  not  destroyed  ;  and  from  this,  and  also  from 
the  bone  itself,  new  bone  is  formed.  The  friends  and 
neighbors  stand  by  during  the  operation  and  see  a  large 
portion  of    the  outer  table  removed   and  may,  perhaps. 


134      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Fooi^ish  Ideas. 

keep  the  bone.  When  the  person  recovers,  with  the 
lost  substance  replaced  by  a  growth  of  new  bone,  and 
they  find  that  there  is  no  depression  where  they  think 
there  ought  to  be,  they  can  not  account  for  this  unex- 
pected condition  of  things  on  any  other  hypothesis  than 
that  "  the  doctor  slipped  a  piece  of  silver  in  when  we 
wusn't  lookin'."  They  know  nothing  of  the  reformation 
of  bone,  and  they  would  as  soon  expect  to  see  his  great 
toe  grow  out  again,  after  being  amputated,  as  to  see 
bone  reform.  The  neighborhood  liar,  who  is  always 
present  at  an  accident,  a  circus  or  a  dog  fight,  takes 
advantasre  of  the  occasion  and  savs  he  "  saw  the  Doc. 
when  he  put  the  silver  in  the  hole.  He  tho't  I  wusn't 
lookin',  but  I  seen  him  when  he  done  it."  This  lie  is 
accepted  as  evidence,  as  it  seems  to  explain  what  they 
do  not  otherwise  understand,  and  hence  the  delusion. 
The  man  with  the  injured  skull  hears  the  story,  feels  of 
his  head,  and  says,  "Yes,  I  guess  it's  so,"  and  soon 
begins  to  exhibit  himself  as  a  man  with  a  silver  plate  in 
his  skull  and  ever  after  he  is  a  living  lie. 

Some  people  have  a  strong  prejudice  in  favor  of  blow- 
ing a  silk  handkerchief  through  the  chest  in  case  of  gun 
shot  wound  of  that  part  of  the  body.  In  the  first  case 
of  gunshot  wound  that  I  ever  treated  I  met  this  difficulty 
and  got  badly  worsted.  I  believe  this  barberous  prac- 
tice used  to  be  resorted  to,  but  it  took  its  exit  along  with 
the  practice  of  immersing  amputated  stumps  in  boiling 
tar  and  searing  them  with  white  hot  irons. 

I  was  called  to  see  a  young  man  who  had  been  shot 
under  the  following  circumstances  : 


Superstitions.  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     135 

He  went  out  "  turkey  calling-  "  just  at  daylight. 

Hunters  and  frontiersmen  hunt  the  turkey  in  this 
way  when  he  is  strutting  in  the  spring  of  the  3'ear. 
They  make  what  they  call  a  "  cowker,"  or  "  caller  "  out 
of  a  bone  from  some  part  of  the  body  of  the  turkey,  and, 
with  this  in  the  mouth  they  imitate  the  turkey  so  clever- 
ly that  they  deceive  the  very  elect — the  turkey  himself. 
There  happened  to  be  two  young  men  out  on  this  par- 
ticular morning  (both  ex-members  of  the  3d  Wisconsin 
Regiment)  who  got  to  calling  each  other — each  taking 
the  other  for  a  turkey.  One  had  on  a  blue  army  blouse 
and  was  hidden  behind  a  bunch  of  sprouts,  and  the  other 
was  coming  up  behind  him.  The  latter  saw  him  in  the 
uncertain  grey  mist  of  the  morning  and  blazed  away. 
A  bullet  from  a  large  Indian  rifle  passed  through  the 
right  lung  from  behind  and  emerged  near  the  nipple. 
When  I  reached  his  home,  to  which  he  had  been  carried, 
I  found  a  large  crowd  of  curious  neighbors  there. 

Amongst  them  was  a  fellow  who  had  been  a  fellow- 
comrade  in  the  same  regiment.  He  had  about  his  face  the 
unmistakable  lines  indicating  the  common  liar  and  the 
egotistical  donkey.  He  put  numerous  questions  to  me 
while  I  bandaged  the  young  man's  chest  and  gave  him 
an  opiate.  He  asked  me,  among  other  things,  if  I  was 
going  to  "blow  a  silk  handkercher  through  his  chest." 

I  answered  that  I  was  not  and  went  on  with  m}' 
work. 

When  I  started  home  I  found  him  in  the  yard  enter- 
taining a  crowd  of  interested  spectators.  He  was  stand- 
ing with  his  legs  far  apart,  his  chin  thrust  forward  and  I 


136      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 


could  see  the  index  finger  of  his  right  hand  come  down 
into  the  palm  of  his  left  occasionally  as  he  emphasized 
his  remarks.  He  was  laying  for  me  and,  on  seeing  me, 
motioned  me  to  approach.  When  I  entered  the  circle 
of  his  auditors  he  asked  : 

'  Doc,  ain't  you    a  goin'  to    blow  a  handkercher 
through  his  chest?" 


I  answered 
that    I   was  not. 

"AVell,"  said 
he,  "  they  al- 
ways done  it  af- 
ter a  battle  In 
the  army.  I  have  helped  old  Doctor  Mott,  of  New 
York,  do  it  a  hundred  times." 

"  What  good  does  it  do?''  I  asked. 

I  have  always  found    it    a    good   plan  to  put  these 


"doc,   ain't    vou    a    goin'  to    blow  a 
handkercher   through   his   chest?" 


SuPERSTiTiONvS,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     137 

smart  people  on  the  witness  stand  and  let  them  throw 
themselves  ;  but  I  got  caught  here. 

"  What  good  will  it  do?"  he  repeated  after  me, 
affecting  great  astonishment.  "  I  should  think  you 
ought  to  know,''  he  continued,  "  that  it  zv ill  keep  the  cor- 
pus cum  from  diagolati^i'  on  the  diaphragmT'' 

I  still  maintained  my  ground  and  asked, 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  with  e3'es  wide  open,  and  seeming- 
ly paral3'zed  with  astonishment  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  young  man,  ef  you  are  a  doctor  an'  don't 
know  what  that  means  you'd  better  quit!" 

In  the  language  of  Micawber,  I  was  "  floored." 
There  was  no  answer  to  that  outburst  of  learned  indig- 
nation, except  with  a  club,  but  in  keeping  with  my  usu- 
ally mild  and  gentle  nature  I  didn't  kill  him.  The  scoun- 
drel may  be  living  yet.  If  so  he  owes  his  life  to  the  fact 
that  the  writer  is  a  lineal  descendent  in  a  direct  line 
from  a  party  by  the  name  of  Job,  who  used  to  live 
at  Uz. 

There  is  a  practice  among  the  midwives  and  old 
"  grannies  "  of  the  West  (and  everywhere  else,  I  pre- 
sume) of  shaking  new  born  infants  for  an  imaginary 
disease  which  they  call  "  liver  grown."  If  the  new  born 
infant  does  not  do  well  they  assume  that  "it's  liver  has 
growed  to  its  side."  They  essay  to  remedy  this  imag- 
ined difficulty  by  turning  the  poor  tender  thing  upside 
down  ;  then,  holding  it  by  the  heels  they  give  it  a  slow, 
downward  movement,  as  if  they  would  drop  it,  and  then 
suddenly   jerk    it    upward.       This  they    repeat    several 


138      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

times.  If  the  child  gets  well  they  "  broke  it  loose;''  but 
if  it  dies  "  it  was  growed  so  tight  that  it  couldn't  be 
broke."  A  great  number  of  times  I  have  prevented 
this  cruel  performance ;  many  times,  I  believe  it  has 
been  done,  in  my  absence,  with  my  own  little  patients, 
in  spite  of  me,  and  so  no  doubt,  with  all  other 
physicians. 

But  I  can  not  dismiss  this  subject  without  referring, 
briefly,  to  the  superstitions  of  the  negroes.  They  have 
some  superstitious  ideas  which  their  ancestors  evidently 
brought  from  Africa,  and  which  have  been  handed  down 
from  generation  to  generation.  The  one  thing  which 
worries  the  negro  more  than  any  other  is,  perhaps,  the 
fear  of  being  "conjured."  They  have  a  belief  that  cer- 
tain persons  (generally  of  their  own  race)  have  the  pow- 
er to  "  conjure  "  them,  or  "  put  a  spell  "  on  them,  and 
they  are  so  impressed  with  this  belief  sometimes,  and  it 
takes  such  complete  possession  of  them  that,  I  am  credi- 
bly informed,  they  actually  dwindle  away  and  die.  The 
person  feared  is  generally  a  "red  eyed  nigger."  We 
see  negroes  occasionally  who  (like  some  white  people) 
have  large  hemorrhagic  points  in  the  "  whites  ''  of  their 
eyes.  The  more  ignorant  negroes  are  in  perfect  terror 
of  these  "  red  eyed  niggers."  The  conjuring  is  general- 
ly done,  as  they  think,  by  the  conjurer  placing  certain 
articles — sometimes  one  thing,  sometimes  another ; 
sometimes  wrapped  in  a  package,  sometimes  placed  in  a 
phial  or  bottle,  and  placed  in  a  path  where  the  victim  is 
known  to  travel  and  permitting  him  to  unconsciously 
step  over  it. 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.     .139 

The  negroes  sometimes  carry  very  queer  things 
about  their  persons  to  prevent  the  operation  of  the  con- 
jurer's spell.  The  rabbit''s  foot  is  deemed  to  be  the  best 
among  the  counter  charms,  though  the  mole's  foot 
stands  high  with  many. 

I  held  an  inquest  a  few  years  ago  on  the  body  of  a 
stalwart  negro  man,  who  had  died  suddenly.  He  was  a 
man  of  more  than  ordinary  intelligence  for  one  of  his 
race  and  was  a  leader  in  colored  church  circles.  In  one 
of  his  pockets  I  found  a  small  wad  securely  wrapped  and 
tied  with  a  string.  Cutting  the  string  and  removing  the 
outer  wrap  I  came  to  a  piece  of  buckskin  ;  and  under 
this  was  a  wrap  of  red  flannel,  and  inside  the  flannel  was 
a  lodestone  or  magnet  with  a  great  number  of  iron  or 
steel  filings  adhering  to  it.  This  was,  no  doubt,  a 
highly  prized  charm,  and  was  intended  to  keep  off  the 
spell  of  the  conjurer. 

While  traveling  on  a  Missouri  Pacific  Railway 
train  a  few  years  ago  I  noticed  a  negro  woman  get  off 
at  a  way  station.  Soon  after  she  had  done  so  the  porter 
found  a  small  pocket  book  in  the  seat  which  she  had 
occupied.  He  brought  it  to  the  conductor  who  asked 
me  to  witness  its  contents,  as  there  might  be  a  claim 
that  something  was  missing.  When  it  was  opened  the 
contents  were  found  to  be  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  and — 
a  rabbifs  foot !  She  was,  no  doubt,  in  great  distress 
until  she  recovered    that    rabbit's   foot. 

Some  negroes  who  are  sharper  than  the  rest  of 
their  race  and  who  are  utterly  unscrupulous,  make  mon- 


140      Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas. 

ey  by  preparing  these  charms,  which  resist  the  power  of 
the  conjurer's  spell  and  bring  good  luck  to  the  possessor. 

The  negro  has  a  mortal  fear  of  the  cat  under  cer 
tain  circumstances.  If  one  of  the  more  superstitious 
sees  a  cat  cross  the  road  or  street  ahead  of  him  he  will 
traverse  an  unreasonable  distance  in  the  country,  or  go 
any  number  of  blocks  in  town,  in  order  to  head  the  cat 
off  so  as  not  to  cross  its  path. 

They  impress  man}-  of  their  superstitious  ideas 
upon  the  white  children  with  whom  they  come  in  con- 
tact, for  childhood  is  a  rich  field  in  which  to  sow  the 
seeds  of  superstition — and  it  takes  hard  work  in  after 
years  to  educate  it  out  of  them. 

If  a  negro  baby  is  having  trouble  in  cutting  its 
teeth,  the  mothers  procure  the  brain  of  a  rabbit  and  rub 
it  on  the  gums  so  as  "  to  make  de  teef  come  froo  easy.'' 

I  have  had  any  number  of  white  mothers  consult  mc 
about  this  matter,  desiring  to  use  it  on  their  babies  if  I 
thought  it  would  do  good.  In  every  instance  I  found 
that  they  got  the  idea  from  a  colored  nurse,  or  a  colored 
washer-woman  or  servant.  There  is  something  about 
"Brer  Rabbit"  which  the  negro  thinks  brings  good 
luck. 

A  few  years  ago  I  had  a  patient  for  whose  baby  I 
desired  to  procure  a  wet  nurse.  I  knew  a  young  col- 
ored woman  whose  baby  had  died  only  a  few  days  before. 
In  order  to  be  sure  of  getting  her  I  sent  for  the  old 
negro  woman  with  whom  she  was  staying  in  order  to 
procure  her  influence.  The  old  woman  came  promptly 
to  my  office. 


Superstitions,  Traditions  and  Foolish  Ideas.      141 

"  Auntie,  I  wish  to  get  the  young  woman  who  lost 
her  baby  at  your  house  to  nurse  a  white  baby.  Do  you 
think  I   can  get   her?'' 

"  I  dunno,  sail,  wheddah  yo  kin  o'  not;  but  it  won' 
do  no  good,  ef    you  do.     She  ain't  got  no  milk  no  mo\'' 

"  She  hasn't  ?"  I  asked  ;  "why,  I  should  think  she 
ought  to  have.      She  is  young  and  healthy." 

"  Yes,  sah,  she  is,  an'  she  had  plenty  ob  it,  but  it's 
all  done  gone  and  dried  up  long  ago." 

"  That's  strange,"  1  said,  "  it  has  only  been  a  few 
days  since  her  baby  died." 

"  Ain't  nuffin  strange  'bout  it  ef  ye  knowed  how  it's 
done.  I'se  found  out  somfin  dat'll  diy  it  up  ebery  time, 
an'  it'll  do  it  quick,  too." 

"Ah,  indeed.  Well,  I'd  like  to  learn  how  3'ou 
do  it." 

"  Why,  yo'  jest  put  some  camp  fire  (^camphor)  on  a 
piece  ob  cotton,  an'  put  it  in  de  coffin  wid  de  baby  an'  it 
jest  keeps  a  drawin'  an'  a  drawin'  till  it  draws  all  de 
milk  away!" 

I  didn't  argue  the  point  with  her.  There  is  no  use 
in  doing  so  with  one  who  is  capable  of  believing  a  thing 
so  ridiculous.  The  only  thing  to  do  to  rid  the  race  of 
such  superstitions  is  to  educate  their  children. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,   MIDWIVES  AND 
NURSES. 


REASONS  WHY  THE  PROFESSION  DO  NOT  LIKE  PREACHER 
DOCTORS — THE  NURSE  AND  THE  "NUSS" — STORIES  ABOUT 
"NUSSES." 

HERE  is  an  abiding  preju- 
dice   among  ■  medical   men 
against   preachers    practic- 
ing medicine,  and   against 
midwives   and  certain  self- 
styled   nurses.     This,  as   a 
rule,  is    well    founded    and 
there  are  good  reasons  in 
the   minds    of    those   enter- 
taining such  prejudice-rea- 
sons that  are  born  of  exper- 
iences in  their  lines  as  prac- 
titioners of  the  healing  art. 
It  is  a  fact  that,  in    the    western  country,  and  in  the 
more   sparsely    settled     districts,    especially,    there    an; 
many  men  following  both  the  professions  of  medicine  and 
the  ministry. 

They  either  started  out  in  life  as  preachers  and  then 
studied  medicine,  or  pretended  to,  or  began  as  practi- 
tioners of  medicine  and  then  tacked  on  to  that  the  voca- 
tion of   a  minister.     The  prejudice    against  them  arises 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.         143 

mainly  from  the  fact  that  every  well  informed  physician 
knows  that  no  man  can  follow  both  professions  and  do 
justice  to  either.  He  will  be  either  a  very  poor  preach- 
er or  a  very  poor  ph3'sician,  or  both — probably  both. 
Either  profession,  well  followed  and  well  filled,  is  suffi- 
cient to  tax  the  intellect  and  the  energy  of  the  best  man 
to  the  utmost. 

It  is  then  a  sort  of  presumption,  in  the  outset,  for 
any  man  to  assume  to  fill  two  places  which,  under  the 
ordinary  rule,  only  one  man  is  expected  to  fill.  He 
arrogates  to  himself  a  degree  of  ability  and  a  power  of 
intellect  which  we  .know  that  no  one  man  possesses. 
He,  therefore,  puts  himself  in  the  position  of  a  pretender 
and  no  good  man  likes  or  approves  of  a  pretender. 

In  the  second  place  such  a  person  is  almost  sure  to 
attach  more  importance  to  a  little  prayer,  added  to  his 
medication,  than  he  does  to  his  medication.  Whether 
this  be  sincere  or  pretense,  to  the  ordinary  physician  it 
looks  like  pretense.  It  savors  of  cant  to  such  an  extent 
that,  in  some  cases,  it  becomes  contemptible.  Then 
again,  the  preacher  physician  is  apt  to  get  a  hold  upon 
the  members  of  his  flock,  through  his  preaching  and  his 
church  associations,  by  which  he  obtains  their  practice, 
whether  his  abilities  as  a  physician,  entitle  him  to  it  or 
not.  He  does  not  only  obtain  their  practice,  but  their 
influence  upon  those  who  are  not  members  of  the  flock, 
and  thereby  gets  theh'-  practice. 

This,  to  the  ordinary  physician,  looks  unfair.  He 
has  met  this  man  in  consultation,  perhaps,  and  he  knows 
that  he  is  shallow,  and  yet  this  man  goes  to  the  country 


144  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

church,  or  to  the  school  house  on  Sunday,  and  preaches; 
he  puts  on  a  sanctimonious  air,  and  talks  about  being 
good ;  talks  about  dead  children  and  rakes  up  death 
scenes  which  touch  people's  hearts  and  make  them  cry, 
and  himself  joins  in  the  crying.  They  say  he  is  "  such 
a  good  man!"  People  naturally  like  a  man  who  can 
make  them  cry — and  laugh.      It  is  singular,  but  it  is  true 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  including  here 
men  who  huve  quit  the  ministr}'  and  become  physicians, 
or  who  have  quit  the  field  of  medicine  and  become 
preachers.  That  is  legitimate  and  proper.  I  only  speak 
of  those  who  attempt  to  do  both.  I  have  known  several 
of  the  latter,  and  must  sa}'  that  I  have  invariably  found 
them  to  be  poor  preachers  and  poorer  doctors. 

I  was  once  attending  a  wealthy  gentleman  for  a 
pneumonia  of  the  right  lung.  He  was  a  bad  subject, 
being  a  slight,  weakly  man,  and  when  the  second 
stage  ensued,  the  S3'mptoms  were  somewhat  alarming. 
While  I  did  not  despair  I  honestly  informed  the  family, 
as  is  my  habit,  that  his  condition  was  critical.  They  at 
once  desired  to  send  for  a  man  who  was  once  their  fam- 
ily physician  in  another  state,  and,  who  was  now  a 
preacher;  but  still  practiced  some,  they  said,  "  among 
the  brethren." 

I  protested  and  desired  one  of  my  colleagues 
called.  But  nothing  would  satisfy  them  but  to  have 
this  man.  He  lived  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away 
and  was  telegraphed  for. 

He  came,  but,  fortunately  for  me,  the  crisis  was 
over  and  my  patient  was  better.     In  a  very  short  con- 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.        145 

versatioQ  with  him  I  ascertained  that,  if  he  had  ever 
known  anything  about  medicine  he  had  forgotten  it. 
The  first  thing  he  did  upon  entering  the  sick  room,  after 
greeting  the  patient,  was  to  get  down  and  pray.  I 
didn''t  protest  but  I  thought  it  out  of  place.  He  then 
proceeded  to  make  the  examination.  I  handed  him  my 
Camann^s  binaural  stethosco.pe.  He  pttt  it  to  his  eai^s 
backward — in  a  position  in  which,  every  competent  phy- 
sician knows,  he  could  hear  nothing. 

After  a  very  patient  and  painstaking  examination 
(he  had  come  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  remember, 
and  must  pretend  to  be  doing  something)  he  turned  to 
me  and  said,  "  pneumonia  of  the  left  lung !" 

"  Of  the  right  lung,  doctor,''  I  quickly  explained. 

"  Yes-yes,"  said  he,  correcting  hunself,  "  the  right 
lung  ;   that  is  true — the  right  lung.'' 

I  could  afford  to  let  him  make  a  mistake  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  used  the  stethoscope,  but  I 
had  been  poulticing  that  right  lung,  and  I  could  not 
afford  to  let  him  change  the  locality  of  the  disease. 

Now,  he  appeared  to  be  a  good  fellow,  but  I  could 
not  suppress  a  feeling  (  f  contempt  for  him.  A  man 
knows  when  he  does  7iot  know  a  thing,  although  he  may 
not  be  right  sure  when  he  does  know  a  thing.  Other- 
wise a  man  may  be  in  doubt  about  the  accuracy  of  his 
knowledge,  but  he  can  not  be  in  doubt  about  his  abso- 
lute lack  of  it. 

I  have  never  called  one  of  those  persons  in  a  serious 
case,  nor  been  called  with  them,  that  an  extemporized 
prayer  meeting  didn't  result.      I  object  to  this.     I  object 


146  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

on  account  of  the  fact  that  it  does  many  sick  ones  more 
harm  than  good — the  weeping  and  waihng  of  relatives 
and  friends,  and  the  fact  that  the  patient,  if  still  in  his  or 
her  right  mind,  is  apt  to  be  seriously  shaken  up.  The 
death  bed  is  not  a  good  place  for  reformation.  This  is 
a  matter  which  should  be  attended  to  when  we  are  not 
sick.  I  do  not  believe  that  people  ought  to  be  scared 
into  Heaven,  even  if  they  could  be. 

The  prejudice  against  midwives  is  based  on  grounds 
as  strong  as,  or  stronger,  than  that  against  the  preacher 
physicians.  The  principal  objection  against  them  is  on 
account  of  their  ignorance.  No  good  physician  will 
object  to  any  woman  going  to  the  assistance  of  another 
in  a  time  of  serious  trial,  when  a  physician  can  not  be 
had,  and  doing  all  that  she  can  in  such  ways  and  to  such 
an  extent  as  any  woman,  making  no  pretensions  to 
knowledge  may  reasonably  go.  But  when  a  woman, 
without  possessing  any  more  knowledge  than  the  rest  of 
her  sex,  sets  herself  up  as  a  practitioner  in  this  particu- 
lar line  to  be  sent  for,  even  in  opposition  to  a  physician, 
then  the  latter  has  a  right  to  object.  The  people  have 
a  still  better  right  to  do  so.  I  have  known  many 
women  who  would  not  go  except  when  a  physician 
could  not  be  had,  and,  who,  upon  the  very  slightest  sus- 
picion that  all  was  not  right,  would  inform  the  family 
and  friends  and  insist  on  a  physician  being  called  at  all 
hazards.  Such  women  deserve  commendation  and 
praise.  I  have  known  others  on  the  other  hand  who 
would  set  up  their  limited  knowledge  against  that  of  a 
competent  physician,  and  who,  when  called  to  a  serious 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.         147 

case,  demanding  instrumental  interference,  or  the  manip- 
ulation of  a  skilled  hand,  would  sit  and  wait  day  and 
night,  while  the  patient  became  exhausted  and  the  foun- 
dations for  septicemia  and  death  were  laid,  and  who 
would  object  to  the  calling  of  a  ph3'sician,  insisting  that 
"all  will  be  right  in  a  few  minutes."  I  have  even  known 
them  to  resort  to  the  most  horrible  methods  to  remedy 
existing  difficulties.  Such  women  deserve  criminal  pros- 
ecution. Many,  very  many  beautiful  lives  have  been 
sacrificed  by  the  wilful  stubbornness,  selfishness  and 
greed  of  these  old  hags. 

The  first  one  of  these  self  appointed  doctors  that  I 
ever  met  was  in  my  early  practice.  She  was  as  large  as 
most  men  and  decidedly  masculine  in  appearance.  She 
had  a  big  nose,  high  cheek  bones,  a  strong  under  jaw 
and  firm  set  mouth.  She  smoked  strong  tobacco  in  a 
cob  pipe  and  was  decidedly  fond  of  whisk}^  In  speak- 
ing of  her  professional  work  I  asked,  "  what  books  have 
you  read  on  obstetrics,  Mrs.  G.?'' 

"  Well,  I  hain't  read  none,  because  I  cain't  read, 
but  I've  had  a  heap  read  to  me  !'' 

"  I  suppose  that  you  have  done  a  good  deal  of  prac- 
tice in  your  special  line,"  I  suggested. 

"  Yes,  I  used  to  do  a  heap;  but  I  don't  do  so  much 
now.  But,  when  I  was  young  and  strong  I  used  to  go 
and  nuss  and  take  care  of  the  sick  ;  and  I'd  super  and 
Pd  tend^  but  I  cain't  do  it  no  more  like  I  could  then." 

The  old  lady  had  divided  the  word  superintend  into 
"  super  and  tend,"  which  was  new  to  me. 

This  woman  had   lived   in  the  county  twenty  years, 


148 


Prkachkr  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 


and  she  was  so  wofully  ignorant  that  she  invariably 
called  the  name  of  the  county  seat  wrong.  It  was  Ne- 
vada and  she  called  it  Sevada!  Yet  this  woman  had  the 
assurance  and  effrontery  of  "  Old  Nick,"  and  would  not 
V      .  hesitate     to 

--^     -    ' — ^-  -       -^-  take  into 

her  hands 
the  issues  of 
life  and 
dea  t  h,  in 
cases  in 
which  she 
knew  no 
more  than  a 
wild  hog  in 
the  woods! 
This  wo- 
man is  only 
one  of  more 
than  a  score 
whom  I 
have  known 
and  while 
her  i  gno- 
rance,  about 
"an'  I'd  super  an'  I'd  tend."  thing's  in 

general,  is  rather  more  dense  than  the  average,  yet  she 
knew  as  much  about  the  special  work  to  which  she  had 
appointed  herself  as  the  rest.  The  truth  is  none  of  them 
know  any  thing  about  the  serious  work  which  they  pre- 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.         149 

tend  to  do.  If  all  is  right  anybody  can  attend  to  it.  If 
there  are  serious  complications  they  are  as  ignorant  of 
their  duties  as  the  unborn  child,  and  must  either  stand 
by,  and  see  the  poor  mother  wear  herself  out  in  helpless, 
hopeless  agony,  or  by  their  ignorant  interferance  do 
things  which  are  almost  as  bad  as  murder.  All  that  the 
act  needs  to  be  murder  is  the  intent. 

While  discussing  this  subject  a  few  years  ago  with  a 
friend,  eminent  in  the  profession  of  medicine,  he 
remarked  : 

"  If  an  ignorant  woman  lives  to  be  fifty  or  sixty 
years  of  age  and  finds  herself  a  failure  at  everything  else, 
and  then  wants  to  be  a  doctor,  if  she  does  not,  providen- 
tially, die,  some  one  ought  to  take  her  out  and  kill  her  !" 

This  seems  to  be  a  harsh  sentence,  and  one  that  the 
speaker  himself,  in  his  broad  humanity,  could  not  see 
carried  out ;  and  yet,  in  strict  truth,  there  would  be  a 
great  saving  of  life  if  these  women  were  penned  up  in 
some  asylum,  as  soon  as  they  began  to  manifest  symp- 
toms of  wanting  to  "  doctor  "  people,  and  kept  there 
until  cured  of  their  monomania. 

Many  of  them  will  not  hesitate  to  come  in  in  the 
absence  of  the  physician  and  change  the  treatment  in 
cases  of  childbed  fever,  or  in  the  serious  ailments  of 
small  children. 

They  always  end  what  they  have  to  say  in  praise  of 
a  certain  remedy,  or  a  certain  measure, 

"  I  never  knowed  it  to  fail,  and  then,  what's  more, 
ef  it  don't  do  no  good  it  won't  do  no  harm." 

This   is  what  the  family   have  been  looking  for — 


150  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

an  unfailing  remedy — one  which,  if  it  does  no  good 
will  do  no  harm. 

It  is  astounding  what  influence  those  women  often 
acquire  over  families,  and  more  especially  over  young 
mothers.  They  say  "  she  is  an  old  lady  an'  knows  more 
about  babies  than  the  doctors ;  what  does  a  ma7i  know 
about  a  baby,  or  about  a  woman  either?" 

The  habit  of  those  women  of  dosinof  new  born 
babes  with  saffron  tea  (a  mean,  unwashable  sort  of  veg- 
etable 3'ellow  dye)  and  cat  nip  (good  for  cats,  no  doubt) 
and  giving  them  fat  meat  and  "sugar  teats''  to  suck 
deserves  the  deepest  condemnation.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  many  weak  kneed  and  careless  physicians  permit 
these  atrocities  against  the  weak  and  helpless,  new  born 
thing.  I  never  do.  So  long  as  midwife  or  nurse  obeys 
my  orders  and  does  as  I  direct,  she  is  my  friend,  and 
will  meet  with  nothing  but  g-entleness  and  kindness  from 
me  ;  but,  whenever  she  invades  the  domain  of  what 
strictly  belongs  tome,  and  "takes  the  bits  in  her  teeth  " 
and  proposes  to  do  as  she  pleases  she  will  find  me  as 
relentless  as  a  Comanche  Indian.  Human  life  is  a 
precious  thing,  whether  it  be  the  life  of  the  babe,  the 
belle  or  the  octogenarian,  and  the  physician  who  permits 
the  life  which  has  been  placed  in  his  special  care  and 
keeping,  to  be  lightly  dealt  with  by  others,  has  not 
learned  all  that  he  ought  to  know. 

There  are  nurses  and  "nusses."  A  good  nurse 
who  knows  her  duties  and  who  implicitly  obeys  the  di- 
rections of  the  ph3'sician  is  a  "pearl  of  great  price.''  The 
self  appointed  "  nuss  "  who  thinks  she  knows  more  than 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.        151 

the  doctor,  who  tells  lies  about  the  number  of  3'ears  she 
has  been  in  the  business,  and  who  secretly  gives  com- 
pound cathartic  pills  to  your  typhoid  patients  because 
she  thinks  that  "  the  only  thing  that  ails  her  is  that  her 
liver  ain't  actin',  an'  the  doctor  hain't  give  her  a  single 
thing  to  make  it  act  and  clean  it  off,"  deserves  nothing 
but  a  decent  burial  at  Christian  hands  and  a  small 
attendance  at  the  obsequies. 

The  trained  nurses  that  are  now  coming  into  use  in 
the  larger  cities  are  a  great  help  to  the  physician,  but  it 
will  be  a  long  time,  I  fear,  before  they  can  be  utilized  in 
the  small  towns  and  in  the  country.  On  the  other  hand 
the  miserable  old  gin  guzzlers  (who  kill  our  patients 
with  their  doleful  stories  and  portentious  prognostica- 
tions) with  whom  the  physician  in  the  country  and  coun- 
try towns  has  been  compelled  to  forbear,  in  order  that 
he  may  not  be  numbered  with  the  murderers,  will  still 
hold  the  fort. 

There  are  many  good  nurses  in  families  who  do  not 
set  themselves  up  as  such,  and  I  would  much  rather  have 
one  of  these  nurse  a  sick  patient  of  mine  than  to  have 
many  who  set  themselves  up  as  professionals.  The 
worst  feature  of  the  professional  who  has  had  no  train- 
ing for  her  vocation  is  that  many  of  them  take  up  the 
business  in  order  to  keep  from  taking  in  washing  or  go- 
ing out  to  service. 

They  are  ignorant  and  have  no  natural  qualifica- 
tions for  the  business,  and  besides,  when  once  employed 
they  forget  that  they  are  employed  as  nurses  only,  and 
want  to    assume  the   functions   of   a  doctor.     It  is  most 


152  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

annoying-  to  the  physician  to  be  confronted  by  the  igno- 
rant nurse  at  each  visit,  as  if  she  desired  a  consultation. 
No  ph3'sician,  who  is  a  kindly  gentleman  (and  all  physi- 
cians ought  to  be  both  kind  and  gentlemanly)  feels  like 
thrusting  a  woman  aside  with  a  rude  rebuff. 

"  Well,  doctor,  what  do  3"Ou  think  of  her  this 
mornin'  ?" 

Now,  it  may  be  that  you  do  not  care  to  have  her 
know  just  what  you  think.  If  you  think  the  patient  is 
not  doing  well,  or  is  in  great  danger,  and  tell  her  so,  she 
may  go  and  repeat  what  you  have  said  to  the  patient,  or, 
if  not  to  her,  to  the  family  and  neighbors  and  will  crowd 
the  house  with  interested  relatives  and  friends  and 
thereby  injure  the  sick  one. 

If  your  opinion  is  favorable  she  may  disagree  with 
you  and  argue  the  point  in  the  patient's  presence  after 
you  have  gone. 

Another  bad  feature  about  some  of  the  nurses  is 
that  they  seem  to  be  afraid  that  they  will  either  not  earn 
their  salary,  or  that,  by  not  being  busy  may  get  a  repu- 
tation for  idleness  and  therefore  they  want  to  be  doing 
something  all  the  time.  The  one  needful  thing,  for 
seriously  sick  patients,  is  that  the}^  be  kept  quiet.  After 
all  is  done  that  should  be  done  then  let  them  alone. 

I  had  a  lady  patient  who  was  seriously  sick  com- 
plain to  me  once  that  she  thought  she  would  do  well 
enough  "  if  the  nurse  didn't  pick  at  me  all  the  time." 

I  asked  her  what  she  meant  by  the  nurse  "  picking 
at  her."" 

She  requested  me    to    remain   awhile  and  see.     As 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses.         153 

the  nurse  was  not  present  during  this  conversation  I  con- 
sented to  do  so. 

When  the  nurse  came  in  she  began  "  picking  at 
her,"  and  this  is  about  the  way  in  which  she  did  it : 

She  would  smooth  the  patient's  hair  with  her  hands  ; 
then  she  would  get  a  wet  rag  and  apply  it  to  the 
patient's  lips  ;  then  a  larger  rag"  and  wash  her  hands  ; 
then,  after  the  lapse  of  a  minute  or  two,  she  would  bathe 
her  feet  with  a  wet  rag,  and  then  dry  them  off  with  a 
dry  towel;  then  she  would  tuck  the  cover  around  the 
feet  and,  while  she  had  her  hand  in  in  the  tuckingf  busi- 
ness,  she  would  go  up  to  the  head  of  the  bed  and  tuck 
the  sheet  around  the  patient's  shoulders.  After  care- 
full}^  surveying  the  patient  for  a  minute  or  so  she  would 
ask  her  if  she  didn't  want  a  drink  of  water.  If  the  pa- 
tient didn't  then  she  would  begin  on  the  hair  again 
or  something  else  just  as  annoying. 

I  invited  her  to  the  parlor  before  I  went  away  and 
gave  her  a  lecture  and  concluded  by  asking  her  "  in  the 
name  of  heaven  and  all  the  angels  "  to  let  the  woman 
rest.  I  frankly  told  her  that,  well  as  I  was  then,  if  I 
were  to  lie  down  on  the  bed  and  permit  her  to  worry  me 
one  day  as  she  worried  that  poor,  sick  woman, *it  would 
make  me  sick. 

"  Well,  but  what  must  I  do  ;  it  looks  like  I  ought 
to  be  doin'  somethin'." 

"Do  nothing  except  what  common  sense  dictates  ; 
give  the  medicines  according  to  directions,  bathe  when 
and  as  I  tell  you;  above   all  get   the   patient   quiet  and 


154  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

keep  her  quiet.     Do  not    disturb   her   unnecessarily  and 
do  not  permit  others  to  do  so." 

The  lecture  was  salutary  and  bore  good  results. 
The  nurse  was  not  altogether  bad.  She  was  new  at 
the  business  and  desired  to  earn  her  wages  and  estab- 
lish herself  in  the  opinion  of  the  community  as  being  a 
person  who  was  not  idle,  and  therefore  thought  she 
"  must  be  doin'  somethin',''  in  order  to  ingratiate  her- 
self into  public  favor. 

In  a  somewhat  tedious  and  prolonged  case  of  par- 
turition I  once  had  one  of  those  old  gin-drinking 
smokers  who  was  ignorant,  self  assertive,  and  full  of 
remedies  and  suggestions.  I  knew  my  case  and  was 
patiently  waiting  for  the  time  when  I  could  safely  inter- 
fere with  instruments  .and  end  matters  with  satisfaction 
to  myself  and  perfect  safety  to  the  patient.  This  old 
self  conceited  creature  had  retired  and  consulted  the  gin 
or  whisky  bottle  and  her  pipe  for  about  the  tenth  time, 
each  time  coming  back  with  a  suggestion  as  to  what 
might  be  done  to  bring  matters  to  a  sudden  termination. 

Each  time  I  had  kindly  and  firmly  blown  her  sug- 
gestions to  the  winds  and  waved  her  away  by  saying, 
''But  that  will  not  do  in  this  case." 

She  finally  came  in  with  the  suggestion  that  I  give 
the  patient  a  tablespoonful  of  gunpowder.  She  had 
been  in  a  similar  condition  once — "  was  worked  jest  like 
she  is,  an'  I  tuck  a  tablespoonful  o'  gunpowder  an'  it  was 
all  over  in  ten  minits." 

I  looked  at  her  with  a  quizzical  expression  and 
spoke  in  the  hesitating  manner  of  Mark  Twain  and  The 


Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 


155 


Doctor,  when  tormenting  the  guide  about  the  bust  and 
hand  writing  of  Christopher  Columbus,  and  said, 

'Well,  Mrs.  J.,  but  how  can  we   touch  the  powder 
off?'^ 

Her  face  was  almost  ablaze  with  astonishment ; 

"  Why,  you  don't  have  to  touch  it  off!  You  jest 
give  it  to  her  like  any  other  medicine  an'  let  it  work 
that  way." 

I  answer- 
ed that  gun- 
powder was 
made  of 
saltpetre, 
sulphur  and 
ch  arc  o  al, 
and  when 
c  o  m  bined 
was  not 
good  for 
anything  on 
earth  e  x- 
cept  as  an 
explosive ; 

and,  unless  she  could  devise  some  way  b}^  which  we 
could  set  fire  to  it,  I  couldn't  see  what  good  it  was 
going  to  do.  The  old  lady  seemed  utterly  astounded  at 
my  ignorance  and,  no  doubt,  considered  me  to  be  almost 
criminally  so. 

I  was  once  called  in  a  case  where  there  was  a  young 


'well,    MRS.    J.,  BUT    HOW    CAN    WE    TOUCH    THE 
POWDER   OFF." 


156  Preacher  Doctors,  Midwives  and  Nurses. 

baby  and  the  young  mother  was  suffering-  from  septic 
peritonitis — childbed  fever,  I  had  not  been  the  attend- 
ing physician  before,  but  learned  that  the  nurse  in  the 
case  was  an  old  maid  friend  of  the  patient.  She  desired 
to  quit  the  occupation  of  seamstress,  which  she  had  fol- 
lowed before,  and  become  a  nurse,  and  this  young  mar- 
ried friend  in  her  kindness  and  friendship  had  decided  to 
"  let  her  begin  on  her,''  as  she  expressed  it. 

The  young  mother  was  so  sick  that  I  gave  little 
attention  to  the  baby,  and  as  the  "  nuss  "  seemed  rather 
shy  and  kept  out  of  my  way — leaving  the  care  of  the 
patient  to  her  mother — I  saw  but  little  of  her  and  paid 
little  attention  to  her.  They  told  me  that  she  was  tak- 
ing care  of  the  baby. 

After  the  lapse  of  several  days  I  was  told  that  there 
was  something  the  matter  with  the  baby  and  they  de- 
sired me  to  see  it. 

On  questioning  the  "  nuss  "  I  brought  out  the  as- 
tounding fact  that  she  had  been  feeding  it  on  milk  and 
— crackers!  When  informed  that  a  child  of  that  age 
could  not  digest  crackers  she  was  so  disgusted  with  her- 
self that  she  went  back  to  her  dressmaking  and  the 
world  lost  an  honest  "nuss." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN. 

HIS   GENERAL    CHARACTER    AND    HABITS — HIS    DOG,    TEAM 
AND   WIFE — STORIES    OP    KEESECKER    AND    OLD    DARLING. 

HE  Branch-Water  Man  is  a  pe- 
culiar product  of  the  frontier  and 
the  West.  While  you  will  find 
others  much  like  him  in  the 
loungers,  the  dead  beat  and  the 
shiftless  in  our  larger  cities,  3'et 
the  opportunity  to  become  the 
man  that  he  becomes  and  to  live 
the  life  that  he  lives,  is  not  offered 
to  any  but  him. 
The  Branch-Water  Man  is,  usually,  descended 
from  a  long  line  of  Branch-Water  ancestry.  He  inher- 
its nothing  but  flabby  muscles,  a  flabby  intellect  and 
constitution  and  a  disposition  to  roam  all  the  days  of  his 
life ;  for  this  man  has  no  place  that  he  can  call  his  home. 
He  does  not  want  it,  and  he  would  not  keep  it  if  he  had 
it.  He  does  not  want  a  home,  for  if  he  had  one  which 
he  could  not  sell,  it  would  prevent  him  from  moving. 

He  is  the  American  gypsy  without  the  ability  to 
barter  and  trade  and  care  for  one's  self  that  other  gyp- 
sies possess. 

He  generally   lives  at  the  back  of    another  man's 


158  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

farm  and  drinks  branch  water  in  preference  to  digging  a 
well — because  to  dig  the  well  would  cost  him  some  exer- 
tion and,  if  there  is  one  thing  which  this  man  dislikes 
above  all  others  it  is  exertion.  He  is  the  only  living 
example  of  the  law  of  inertia — that  is  one  part  of  it ; 
that  part  which  teaches  that,  when  a  body  is  at  rest  it 
can  not  move  until  put  in  motion.  The  Branch-Water 
Man  is  happiest  when  not  exerting  himself. 

You  can  tell  this  man  from  other  bipeds  by  his  dog, 
by  his  wagon,  and  his  team,  and  his  dress.  I  know  a 
Branch-Water  man's  dog,  even  when  his  master  is  not 
with  him.  He  is  not  like  any  other  dog.  A  blooded 
dog — the  pointer,  the  setter,  the  spaniel  and  others  of 
the  more  intelligent  and  useful  of  the  canine  species,  will 
not  remain  with  this  man  any  longer  than  it  takes  them 
to  get  away.  Intelligent  and  fine  dogs  like  intelligent 
and  fine  masters.  So,  if  you  ever  see  a  dog  of  the  bet- 
ter kind  with  the  Branch-Water  Man  you  may  know 
that  that  dog  has  either  done  something.mean  and  fallen 
from  grace,  or  some  great  calamity  has  befallen  him. 
Something  has  occurred  to  this  dog  which  has  com- 
pelled him  to  accept  a  position  which  he  knows  is  a  dis- 
grace to  him  every  day  that  he  lives  and  he  feels  it  and 
is  ashamed  of  it  in  his  very  bones. 

This  man's  dog  is  a  mongrel.  He  is  a  mixture  of 
nearly  all  the  dogs  of  the  meaner  kind  that  you  ever 
saw.  He  is  generally  a  3'ellow  clog,  and  has  a  long 
body,  short  legs  and  a  bushy  tail.  As  said  before  he  is 
a  mixture  of  man}'  breeds  of  dogs ;  but,  he  is  most  all 
Branch-Water  man's  dog. 


Thu  Branch-Watkk  Man.  159 

When  you  see  that  kind  of  a  dog  on  the  streets  of 
a  country  town  3'ou  can  find  his  master  by  going  around 
to  the  wood  yard  and  picking  out  the  man  with  the 
smallest,  trashiest  and  meanest  load  of  stove  wood  in 
the  lot. 

You  will  here  not  only  have  the  oppiortunity  to  in- 
spect the  man  himself,  but  you  will  also  get  a  chance  to 
see  his  wagon  and  his  team.  His  team  is  small,  old  and 
boney — perhaps  a  big  horse  and  a  small  mule,  or  a 
small  horse  and  a  large  mule  with  a  crooked  knee.  One 
or  the  other  is  almost  sure  to  be  half  or  altogether 
blind. 

This  man  gets  this  kind  of  a  team  because  it  comes 
cheap,  for  he  can  not  own  a  team  unless  he  can  get  it 
for  almost  nothing.  They  are  the  cast  off  and  used  up 
stock  that  other  and  more  thrifty  people  do  not  want 
and  will  not  have. 

His  team  is  poor  and  looks  like  hair  covered,  ani- 
mated hat  racks,  and  they  have  to  lean  against  each 
other  to  think.  When  the  Branch-Water  Man  wants 
to  move  he  has  to  wake  them  up,  for  these  poor,  miser- 
able and  solemn  stacks  of  bones  stand  and  sleep  in  the 
sun  and  rarely  move  except  to  occasionally  threaten  a 
tormenting  f\y  ;  but  they  rarely  do  more  than  threaten.  It 
would  take  an  expenditure  of  force  and  a  wear  and  tear  of 
tissue  to  knock  the  fly  off  which  the  horse  can  ill  afford. 

This  man  never  thinks  of  moving  into  any  other 
kind  of  a  house  than  an  old  outhouse  on  some  one's  farm 
— a  house  where  the  door  and  floor  and  a  part  of  the 
chimney  are  gone.      This  one-gallused  Arab  will  move 


i6o  Thp:  Branch-Water  Man. 

into  a  house  like  this  and  do  a  Httle  work  around  the 
neighborhood  occasionally  and  will  take  his  pay  in  hog's 
jowls  and  corn  meal  and  be  just  as  happy  as  a  prince. 
He  sometimes  puts  in  a  crop  on  the  farm  of  some  one 
else  and  half  way  'tends  it  until  the  crop  is  partly  raised 
and  he  will  then  sell  it  for  what  he  can  get,  and,  sud- 
denly hears  of  some  "-good  place  to  move  to  "  and  gets 
up  and  moves. 

He  can  move  on  a  fifteen  minute's  notice.  All  he 
has  to  do  is  to  hitch  the  old  scarecrow  team  to  the  old 
rattle  trap  wagon,  put  the  old  woman  and  children  and 
a  few  other  rags  into  the  wagon,  pour  a  bucket  of  water 
on  the  fire  and  call  the  dogs  and  be  off. 

He  is  happy  now.  He  will  drag  along  all  day  and 
go  into  camp  near  a  small  stream  at  night,  where  his 
wife  will  bake  some  corn  pone,  fry  some  fat  bacon  and 
make  a  horrible  decoction  which  they  think  is  coffee. 
He  will  turn  the  team  out  to  graze  and  he  and  his  fam- 
ily will  sit  around  a  smoky  log  fire  and  fill  up  on  this 
stuff  and  speculate  about  the  good  things  they  are  going 
to  have  when  they  get  to  their  destination  and  get  as 
much  enjoyment  out  of  it  as  other  people  have  in  other 
ways. 

The  Branch— Water  Man  is  a  hopeful  creature.  He 
is  always  looking  forward  to  something  which  he  never 
reaches;  he  is  always  expecting  something  to  happen 
which  never  happens,  and  he  is  too  lazy,  ignorant  and 
shiftless  to  make  anything  happen. 

He  just  waits  and  hopes.  I  never  knew  one  of 
those  fellows  to  raise  a  crop  of  anything  and  save  enough 


Thk  Bkanch-Water  Man. 


^6i 


of  it  to  have  seed  for  another  crop.  They  always  beg 
or  buy  seed  in  the  spring.  If  he  can  not  sell  the  crop 
before  it  matures,  and  nature  is  so  bountiful  and  the 
season  so  good  that  he  raises  more  than  he  can  use,  he 
will  either  let  it  go  to  waste,  or  he  will  keep  his  fences 
so  poorly  that  the  neighbor's  stock  will  get  in  and  eat 
it  up. 


WAITING   TO    "git    IN    TO    HAUL." 

The  next  spring  or  the  next  autumn  is  too  far 
away  for  this  man  to  consider  anything  in  relation  to 
that  time.  What  he  wants,  he  wants  right  now  ;  what 
does  he  care  for  next  week  or  next  month  or  next  year? 


1 62  The  Branch-Watkr  Man. 

His  mind  can  not  grasp  things  so  far  away  in  the  dim, 
uncertain  future. 

These  people  will  often  flock  to  the  small  towns  in 
the  West  with  a  view  to  "gittin'  in  to  haul ''  and  will 
live  in  the  little  shanties  in  the  suburbs  or  along  the 
railroad  tracks  and  will  haul  lumber,  dirt,  rock,  sand, 
wood  and  such  things  when  they  can  get  this  kind  of 
work  to  do.  But  the}'  will  not  work,  until  pushed  to  the 
last  extremity,  unless  they  can  use  the  pious  and  solemn 
old  crow-bait  team  also. 

They  will  sit  around  on  dry  goods  boxes  on  the 
corners  and  in  front  of  the  stores,  in  their  shirt  sleeves 
and  old  flop  brim  hats  and  with  green  baize  patches  on 
the  rear  of  their  pants,  and  seriously  discuss  matters  of 
great  national  concern  about  which  they  know  no  more 
than  the  old  horses  that  they  drive,  and  they  will  almost 
run  from  a  man,  if  they  think  he  wants  to  hire  them  to 
work  and  does  not  want  to  hire  the  insane  old  team 
also. 

The  Branch-Water  Man  will  follow  a  hand  organ 
with  a  monkey  attachment  all  day.  He  is  always  at  a 
dog  fight.  He  does  not  go  to  the  dog  fight,  but  just 
seems  to  t2ir7i  tip  where  one  is  going  on  ;  and  he  will 
stand  for  hours  and  listen  to  the  jokes  of  the  patent 
nostrum  vender  and  will  guffaw  inordinately  at  his  silly 
talk.  He  never  misses  a  circus.  A  circus  is,  perhaps, 
the  only  thing  that  ever  tempts  this  man  to  think  of 
parting  with  his  team  and  rickety  old  wagon.  He  will 
resort  to  all  sorts  of  shifts  to  get  hold  of   a  little  money 


The  Branch-Watek  Man.  163 

in    order   to    take    the  "  ole    ^oman    an'    the    brats"  to 
the  show. 

I  knew  one  of  those  fellows  who  actually  came  to 
town  on  circus  da}'  and  brought  his  wife  and  children, 
and  brought  in  and  sold  their  old  cooking  stove  to  a 
second  hand  dealer  for  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  in 
order  to  get  money  with  which  to  attend  the  circus. 

I  knew  another  case  where  another  just  such  a  man 
came  seventy  miles  in  the  same  kind  of  an  old  wagon 
and  the  typical  Branch- Water  Man's  team,  and  brought 
his  wife  and  two  children  (they  had  only  two  ;  these  kind 
of  people  usually  have  eleven)  and  hauled  a  young  calf 
(the  only  one  he  had)  in  the  back  end  of  the  wagon,  in 
order  to  attend  "Barnum's  Greatest  Show  on  Earth." 

The  calf  was  to  be  sold  in  order  to  get  money  with 
which  to  buy  tickets. 

He  had  calculated  on  getting  four  dollars  for  the 
calf,  but  the  first  butcher  he  met  offered  him  six  dollars 
for  it  It  astonished  him  so  that  he  could  scarcely  get 
his  breath.  ' 

After  making  the  sale  he  went  down  to  a  jewelry 
store  and  made  a  statement  of  his  good  fortune  to  the 
jeweller,  and  added  that,  as  he  had  more  money  than 
he  thought  he  would  have  he  had  concluded  to  buy 
something  for  the  children.     The  jeweller  asked  : 

"Well,  little  man,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

The  boy  wiped  his  nose  on  his  sleeve,  looked  around 
a  little,  and  answered  : 

"  I  want  one  o'  them  French  harps." 


164  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

The  price  was  forty  cents  and  the  boy  and  girl  each 
got  one.      Both  of  them  were  barefoot. 

No  doubt,  this  happy  man  even  yet  dates  every- 
thing back  to  the  time  "  when  we  went  to  the  circus." 
It  was  the  one  great  event  in  the  ordinarily  uneventful 
life  of  this  poor  fellow. 

The  Branch-Water  Man's  wife  is  much  like  him. 
She  is  a  piece  off  the  same  stuff.  She  is  prematurely 
old,  is  slab-sided,  tanned  and  wrinkled,  wears  an  old  cot- 
ton handkerchief  of  bright  colors  around  her  head  and 
tied  under  her  chin,  and,  almost  invariably  smokes  a  cob 
pipe  with  a  short  stem. 

She  will  light  this  strong  old  pipe  and  sit  down  with 
her  knees  somewhat  apart  and  will  rest  an  elbow  on 
each  knee,  put  one  hand  under  her  chin  and  hold  the  old 
pipe  with  the  other,  and,  in  this  leaning  attitude,  .will  sic 
and  smoke  and  gaze  intently  on  one  spot  in  front  of  her 
in  sort  of  day  dream  and  will  scarcely  move  or  speak  for 
an  hour  unless  spoken  to. 

I  have  often  wondered  what  she  thinks  about  while 
she  is  being  soothed  by  the  strong  tobacco.  She 
dreams,  no  doubt,  somewhat  like  other  and  more  fa- 
vored people.  She  dreams  of  moving  into  some  goodly 
land  where  her  husband  can  "  git  in  to  haul  ''  without 
trouble ;  where  the  days  are  clear  and  the  running 
streams  are  full  of  fish  that  bite  readily  ;  where  bacon 
and  corn  are  cheap  and  the  papaws  and  the  black 
haws  ripen  early,  and  where  strong,  dog  leg  tobacco  may 
be  had  for  the  asking. 

This  is  the  kind  of  country  that  the  Branch-Water 


The  Branch-Water  Man.  165 

Man  longs  for,  and  it  is,  no  doubt,  the  place  of  which 
his  wife  dreams,  where  her  tooth  ache  is  soothed  and  her 
digestion  is  improved  by  the  stimulus  of  the  old  cob  pipe 
and  the  strong  tobacco. 

The  poets  are  not  the  only  dreamers,  for  the  Branch- 
Water  Man^s  wife  dreams  and,  I  do  verily  believe  that 
his  old  horse  dreams  sometimes. 

What  does  he  dream  of  ? 

Of  a  goodly  land,  where  the  weather  and  the  roads 
are  good,  where  the  loads  are  light  and  the  green  grass 
is  plentifnl;  for,  even  the  Branch-Water  Man's  horse 
gets  tired  of  eating  fence  rails,  stumps,  sprouts,  the 
wagon  bed  and  the  neighbor's  front  gate. 

Reader,  did  you  ever  notice  that  a  man's  horse  and 
his  dog  are  much  like  the  man  ? 

A  spirited  man  will  own  a  spirited  team  and  when 
they  are  brought  out  and  hitched  up  it  takes  a  strong, 
spiiited  man  to  hold  them  in  check  and  keep  them  from 
running  away.  But  the  Branch-AVater  Man's  team 
never  runs  away.  They  are  too  solemn  and  religious  to 
ever  think  of  such  a  thing. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  knew  a  man  of  this  type  who 
owned  a  serious  and  grave  looking  old  horse,  and,  one 
hard  winter,  after  a  bad  crop  year,  the  Branch— Water 
Man  was  not  able  to  procure  food  for  both  the  family 
and  the  old  horse  ;  so  he  would  go  out  and  cut  down 
slippery  elm  saplings  and  the  old  horse  would  eat  the 
tops  and  small  limbs  and  gnaw  the  bark  off  the  body  and 
large  limbs,  and,  in  this  way,  managed  to  get  through 
the  winter.     But  he  was  very  poor  and  bony  when  the 


i66  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

spring  came.  He  would  stand  and  sleep  and  dream, 
with  that  grave,  religious  look  on  his  countenance,  and 
occasionally,  he  would  put  one  ear  forward  and  his  face 
would  suddenly  light  up  with  a  sort  of  ecstatic  smile,  as 
if  he  had  just  discovered  an  oasis  of  green  grass.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  about  what  that  poor  old  horse  dreamed. 
Then  the  red  birds  came.  When  the  red  bird  comes  in 
the  early  spring  he  will  sit  on  a  limb  for  hours  and  whis- 
tle the  peculiar  notes  that  a  farmer  whistles  when  he  is 
calling  his  horses  to  their  feed.  When  the  pjd  horse 
would  hear  this  whistle  he  would  wake  up  suddenly,  a 
heavenly  gleam  would  overspread  his  countenance  and 
he  would  hoist  his  head  and  his  old  "  chawed  off  "  tail 
and  would  go  careering  and  whickering  through  the 
woods  like  he  was  crazy.  About  the  time  he  would  get 
well  under  way  another  bird  would  whistle  in  some 
other  direction  and  he  would  stop  and  listen ;  and,  on 
hearing  it  again,  he  would  turn  and  charge  in  that  direc- 
tion. He  was  so  weak  and  emaciated  by  his  slippery 
elm  diet  that  he  would  run  against  trees  and  fall  over 
logs,  and  the  man  had  to  tie  him  up  to  keep  him  from 
breakinor  his  neck. 

The  Branch-Water  Man's  wagon  is  in  keeping  with 
his  team  and  with  all  his  other  personal  property.  It  is 
old,  gnawed,  rickety  and  shabby,  has  no  paint  on  it  and 
he  rarely  ever  greases  it ;  so  that,  when  he  is  on  one  of 
his  semi-annual  tours  you  can  hear  the  old  wagon  howl- 
ing for  grease  further  than  you  can  see  it.  This  wagon 
looks  as  if  it  would  catch  chickens  if  you  would  turn  it 
loose  in  a  horse  lot.     You  can   always  tell  where  one  of 


The  Bi^anch-Water  Man.  167 

these  wagons  has  gone  along  the  road  by  the  track  in 
the  dust.  Either  one  or  both  hind  wheels  wabble  and 
continually  crosses  back  and  forth  over  the  track  of  the 
front  wheel,  making  a  sort  of  plaited  track. 

The  Branch-Water  Man  don't  care  as  a  rule  where 
he  goes  when  he  moves,  except  that  he  almost  invaria- 
bly heads  for  the  south  in  the  autumn  and  for  the  north 
in  the  spring.  The  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  oppress 
him  and  he  uses  all  of  his  surplus  nervous  energy  in  try- 
ing to  live  where  the  extremes  never  come. 

This  man  is  the  bete  7ioir  of  the  doctor's  life.  His 
family  is  often  sick  and  he  never  pays.  He  scarcely 
ever  goes  after  the  doctor  in  good  weather  and  rarely 
ever  in  the  day  time  ;  and,  one  peculiarity  about  his 
calls  is  he  is  always  in  a  hurry — wants  you  ''jest  as  quick 
as  3'ou  can  git  thar  " — and  he  never  knows  what  the 
symptoms  are. 

This  is  a  shrewd  way  he  has  to  keep  from  being 
sent  away  with  a  prescription.  Press  him  all  you  may 
he  will  insist  that  he  does  not  know  of  what  his  wife  is 
complaining  ;  and  he  will  invent  the  most  ingenious  lies 
to  get  out  of  telling  3'ou  the  symptoms.  He  "jest  cum 
in  from  work  and  found  her  almost  dead,"  and  he  start- 
ed right  off  for  you  and  he  wants  you  to  come  "  right 
away  ;  fur,  if  3'e  don't.  Doc,  I'm  afeard  she'll  die.'' 

When  I  was  young,  innocent  and  tender  hearted 
these  fellows  used  to  really  alarm  me.  Laboring  under 
the  fear  that  I  might  let  some  poor  mortal  die  by  neg- 
lecting her  I  have  trudged  through  the  mud  on  a  dark 
night  for  nearly  a  mile,  and   when  I  arrived  at  the  shan- 


1 68  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

ty,  found  the  woman  sitting  up  in  bed  with  a  hot  stove 
Hd  or  plate  to  her  epigastrium — the  case  being  a  plain, 
old  fashioned  cramp  colic  from  eating  too  much  cab- 
bage, and  the  scoundrel  knew  where  the  pain  was,  for 
he  placed  the  hot  stove  lid  to  her  stomach  before  he 
started  after  me. 

When  upbraided  on  occount  of  his  deception  he 
would  get  out  of  it  by  saying : 

"  Well,  Doc,  I  was  so  scared  that  I  didn't  scarcely 
know  what  the  matter  wuz ;  an'  I  was  afeard  ef  ye  didn't 
come  she'd  die.'' 

This  man  always  tells  you  that  he  has  "  heard  that 
you  are  the  best  doctor  in  town  an'  wants  you  and 
nobody  else."  He  informs  3'ou  that  he  always  pays  his 
doctor's  bills  and  will  pay  you  as  soon  as  he  gets  through 
hauling  sand.  But  he  will  not  do  it.  You  couldn't 
squeeze  a  dollar  out  of  him  if  you  put  him  in  a  hay 
press. 

After  I  had  been  practicing  three  or  four  years  I 
received  an  urgent  call  one  Sunday  morning  to  go  about 
ten  miles  from  the  little  town  where  I  then  lived  to  see 
a  man  who  was  reported  to  be  very  sick.  Could  he  pay 
me  for  my  visit  ? 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  messenger  answered  ;  '•  he  is  per- 
fectly good — always  pays  his  bills.'' 

He  lived  in  the  hilliest  and  poorest  part  of  the 
county,  in  a  neighborhood  which  had  received  the  name 
of  the  "  greasy  nation,"  for  the  reason  that  it  was  inhab- 
ited principally  by  Branch-Water  people. 

As  I  had  but  little  to  do  and  the  weather  was  pleas- 


The  Branch-Water  Man.  169 

ant  I  decided  to  go.  I  took  with  me  a  young  doctor 
who  had  just  graduated,  but  had,  as  yet,  done  no 
practice. 

I  learned  that  this  man  was  a  son-in-law  of  an  old 
fellow  named  Phillip  Jackson.  Jackson  was  noted  in 
that  part  of  the  country  as  an  inveterate  stammerer. 
He  was  one  of  those  stammerers  who  halts  on  a  word 
and  chews  his  ear  for  a  minute  or  two  before  he  can 
"get  her  off  the  center."  It  was  reported  of  him  that 
he  went  into  a  drug  store  once  after  a  bottle  of  turpen- 
tine, and  the  drug  clerk  put  up  two  prescriptions  for  an- 
other man  before  old  Jackson  could  say  '•  turpentine." 

Before  arriving  at  the  place  we  passed  two  or  three 
small  helds  with  poor  fences  around  them  and  then  came 
to  a  log  house,  built  of  very  crooked,  unhewn  logs  and 
daubed  with  mud.  The  place  was  surrounded  by  a  low, 
straggling  fence,  and  the  wood  pile  was  in  front  of  the 
house.  We  encountered  a  half  dozen  Branch-Water 
men,  who  were  sitting  on  the  wood  pile  and  whittling 
and  chewing  bad  tobacco,  as  we  went  in.  Just  before 
we  got  to  the  door  five  or  six  girls — ranging  from  four- 
teen to  seventeen  3-ears  of  age — ran  out  at  the  only  door 
with  their  hands  over  their  mouths  and  went  giggling 
and  snickering  around  the  house. 

Inside  were  a  half  dozen  or  more  women,  all  wear- 
ing dresses  too  short  in  front  and  too  long  behind,  and 
each  holding  a  baby. 

The  sick  man's  name  was  Keesecker  and  he  was 
badly  "salivated."  That  is,  he  had  taken  calomel  and 
was    suffering  from    the    constitutional   effects    of    that 


lyo  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

drug.  His  mouth  was  very  sore — so  sore,  in  fact,  that, 
when  talking,  he  did  not  move  either  jaw,  tongue  or 
hps.     He  talked  entirely  with  his  throat. 

Now,  reader,  open  3'our  mouth  until  your  front 
teeth  are  a  half  inch  apart,  place  the  tip  of  3'our  tongue 
against  your  lower  teeth  and,  thus  holding  your  jaw, 
tongue  and  lips  perfectly  immovable,  do  Keesecker's 
part  of  this  conversation  : — 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?"  I  began. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?"  he  answered. 

It  sounded  as  if  he  had  said,  "  'ow  uh  'on  uh,  her?" 

"  How  long  have  you  been  sick  ?" 

"  About  two  weeks."     ("  a'out  00  ceks.") 

"  How  was  you  first  taken?" 

"  Well,  I  first  got  bilious,  and  I  took  some  calomel 
and  it  salivated  me ;  and  then  I  got  this  pain  in  my 
side." 

His  salivation  was  of  the  "  wet  "  variety  and  he 
was  drooling  a  great  deal;  and,  at  this  juncture,  he 
turned  over  and  spat  on  my  foot.  His  wife  got  a  dirt}' 
rag  and  made  it  worse  by  trying  to  wipe  it  off.  I 
looked  at  my  young  friend,  and  he  was  swelled  up  and 
almost  ready  to  roar  with  laughter. 

"  An3'thing  else,"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  I  got  a  little  better  once  and  went  up  to  Ne- 
vada; an^  as  I  came  home  I  got  awful  hungr}- ;  an'  I 
stopped  at  a  house  an'  asked  for  somethin'  to  eat,  an'  a 
lady  gave  me  a  piece  of  bread,  an'  I  think  it  h-e-1-ped- 
me." 

"  What  is  3-our  name  ?"  I  asked. 


The  Branch-Water  Man.  171 

'*  Keesecker,"  said  he, 

"  I  don't  understand  you,''  said  I. 

"  Let  me  spell  it  for  3'ou.  K-double  e,  Kee,  s-e-c-k, 
Keeseck,  e-r,  er,  Keesecker,"  said  he,  pronouncing  it,  in 
his  mouth-bound  condition,  like  "Heehecker." 

I  looked  at  my  young  friend,  and,  from  his  appear- 
ance, felt  satisfied  that  his  safety  valve  would  not  last 
much  longer.     An  explosion  was  inevitable. 

Just  then  Keesecker  raised  up  and  spat  on  my 
other  foot.  His  wife  got  the  same  rag  and  spoiled  the 
shine  on  that  shoe,  also,  by  trying  to  wipe  it  off. 

After  examining  and  prescribing  for  the  patient  I 
arose  to  go;  and,  as  I  did  so  I  encountered  all  the  wom- 
en in  the  house,  standing  in  a  semi-circle,  with  their 
babies  astraddle  of  their  hips  and  each  desiring  me  to 
look  at  her  baby  for  some  fancied  or  real  ailment. 

May  be  the  reader  does  not  know  what  a  "  strad- 
dling "  baby  means.  These  mothers,  not  being  able  to 
procure  baby  carriages,  all  teach  their  children  to 
"  straddle,"  as  they  can  carry  them  much  easier  in  that 
wa}'.  They  take  the  baby  astride  of  the  waist  above 
the  hip,  when  it  is  quite  young,  and  teach  it,  by  their 
manner  of  holding  it,  to  cling  to  the  mother's  waist  with 
its  little  legfs. 

They  will  go  to  town  to  the  circus  and  walk  all  day 
with  the  child  in  this  position.  Sometimes  a  child  will 
get  refractory  in  the  presence  of  strange  people  and  un- 
der the  excitement  of  the  crowd,  and  will  refuse  tastrad- 
dle.     I  once  heard  one  of    these  women  speak  of    this 


172  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

perverse  action  in  her  child.  She  was  talking  to  an- 
other woman. 

"  Miss  Williams,"  (these  women  almost  invariabl}' 
say  "  Miss  "  for  "  Mistress  "  or  "  Misses  ")  ''  Miss  Wil- 
liams, does  3^our  baby  straddle?" 

"Straddle!"  answered  Mrs.  Williams,  "well,  I 
reckon  he  does.  He's  been  straddlin'  real  good  for 
more'n  three  months." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  other,  "  my  Johnny's  been 
straddlin'  for  longer'n  that  ;  but,  I  tuck  him  to  the  show 
the  other  day,  an'  he  jest  wouldn't  straddle  nary  bit ;  an' 
I  tried  every  way  I  could  to  make  him,  but  he  jest 
wouldn't.  I  threatened  to  spank  'im,  an'  I  did  shake 
'im  right  hard  once,  but  whenever  Pd  put  'im  on  an'  try 
to  make  'im  straddle  he'd  cry  an'  git  jest  as  limber  as  a 
rag  an'  act  jest  like  he  was  possessed.  Oh,  ef  I  hadn't 
been  in  that  big  crowd  I'd  a  spanked  him  'till  he  was 
sore,"  and  so  on. 

As  I  said,  these  women  were  in  a  semi-circle,  each 
with  her  baby  astraddle,  and  each  with  her  hip  elevated 
giving  her  the  appearance  of  having  a  lateral  curvature 
of  the  spine,  and  each  wanting  her  baby  looked  at  and  pre- 
scribed for.  I  went  along  the  line.  One  had  an  eczema 
on  the  face,  another  sore  eyes,  another  an  eruption  on  the 
scalp.  Each  wanted  to  give  a  history  of  her  child  since 
it  was  born ;  but  I  cut  them  short  and  compelled  them 
to  confine  themselves  to  the  necessary  record. 

I  noticed  that  my  young  friend  was  still  swelled  up, 
red  in  the  face,  and  holding  one  hand  over  his  mouth. 

When  I  came  to  the  last,  who  was  a  little,  dumpy 


Thk  Branch-Water  Man. 


173 


WGiiian,  with  a  dress  too  short  in  front  and  too  long  be- 
hind, I  5isked: 

"  Well,  madam,  what  ails  your  baby  ?" 
She  answered  in  a  very  high  keyed  voice,  and  talk- 
ing very  rapidly, 

"  Well,  Doc,  I  don't  know  jest  what  is  the  matter 

with  him.  He 
always  has 
been  a  little  h-i 
vey,"  stretch- 
ing out  the 
word  "hi vey" 
to  about  three 
times  its  prop- 
er length.  I 
heard  the 
young  doctor 
start  to  ex- 
plode, but  he 
pressed  down 
the  valve  and 
held  on. 

As  they  turned  around  and  took  seats  one  large,  fat 
woman  sat  down  in  a  rickety  chair,  one  hind  leg  of  which 
went  through  a  crack  in  the  floor,  and  she  went  over 
backwards,  carrying  the  baby  with  her.  M}'  young 
friend  broke  down  and  laughed  aloud  and  incontinently 
bolted  for  the  door.  He  went  around  the  house  with 
his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  his  head  down,  and,  before 
he  knew  it,  ran  right  into  the  crowd  of  big  girls  which 


and  she  went  over  backwards,  carrying 

THE    baby   with    HER. 


174  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

we  had  seen  on  entering  the  house,  and  flushed  the 
whole  covey.  They  went  3'elHng  and  laughing  in  all  di- 
rections. 

The  other  women  formed  a  line  with  the  regularity 
and  alertness  of  trained  soldiers  and  covered  the  person 
of  the  fat  woman  until  she  scrambled  to  her  feet. 

I  bade  them  "  good  day,"  and  called  my  confused 
3'oung  friend.  As  I  went  out  one  of  the  women  was 
talking  somewhat  angrily,  and  I   heard  another  one  say, 

''  Hush,  Manda,  he'll  hear  you." 

"  I  don't  care  ef  he  does,"  the  other  answered,  "  I 
don't  see  no  use  in  nobody  laughin',  if  somebody  did  fall 
over." 

This  was  meant  for  the  young  doctor,  for  I  had 
maintained  my  equilibrium  throughout. 

After  we  had  gotten  away  from  the  house  the 
young  doctor  asked  :'' 

"  Doctor,  is  this  just  an  ordinary  day  with  you  ?" 

"  No,''  I  answered,  "  fortunately,  no.  This  is  the 
spice.  We  get  our  pie,  good,  bad  and  indifferent ;  but 
this  is  the  spice  that  goes  into  it.  This  kind  of  thing 
shakes  the  doctor  up,  and  brings  the  rich  butter  to  the 
top." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  will  take  my  mince  pie  with- 
out any  spice.'' 

But,  really,  such  things  do  a  doctor  no  harm,  unless 
he  is  weak  enough  to  lose  his  temper.  I  didn't  get  any 
pay  out  of  m}-  visit  to  Keesecker;  but  I  got  what  is  bet- 
ter, many  a  jolly  laugh,  and,  at  last,  a  good  part  of  this 
chapter. 


The  Branch- Water  Man.  175 

Does  the  Branch-Water  Man  tell  lies?  Yes,  al- 
most necessarily.  His  life  and  actions  will  not  bear  the 
truth.  His  conduct  and  habits  as  a  man,  husband, 
father  and  citizen  are  so  contrary  to  what  they  should  be, 
that  he  is  compelled  to  lie  in  order  to  bolster  himself  up. 
His  lies  usually  take  the  form  of  reasons  and  explana 
tions,  as  to  why  he  did  this  thing,  or  did  not  do  that. 

He  is  always  explaining  the  condition  in  which  he 
iii  found — his  abject  poverty  and  his  utter  lack  of  all  that 
goes  to  make  life  not  only  comfortable,  but  even 
bearable. 

When  he  goes  to  a  new  place  he  will  tell  most  won- 
derful lies  of  this  kind.  He  will  tell  how  well  fixed  he 
was,  "  back  yonder  where  I  came  from;^'  and  what  a 
streak  of  bad  luck  struck  him  ;  how  his  stock  died;  how 
all  the  members  of  his  family  were  sick,  and  the  im- 
mense sums  of  money  he  paid  out  for  doctor's  bills.  If 
one  half  of  the  story  were  true  it  ought  to  make  him 
a  hero. 

Old  Darling  was  a  typical  Branch-Water  Man  and 
he  was  one  of  the  worst  liars  I  ever  knew.  His  lies 
were  so  abrupt,  far-fetched,  unexpected  and  startling 
that,  while  you  were  compelled  to  admire  his  genius 
(the  Branch-Water  Man  is  not  a  man  of  genius,  as  a 
rule)  yet  you  were  left  with  a  feeling  of  having  been 
outdone  and  overmastered,  and  that,  too,  by  a  man  who 
was,  in  the  commonest  acceptation  of  the  word, 
"  or'nary." 

I  have  known  liars  whose  lies  had  a  soothingf  effect 
upon  me  ;  whose  lies  fell  like  a  benediction  on  a  pained 


176  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

and  wounded  heart  ;  but  not  so  with  DarHng.  He  ht- 
erally  overcame  you  with  his  hes  and  nothing  that  you 
could  do  or  say  would  in  the  least  way  compete  with  or 
offset  them. 

I  was  attending  the  child  of  an  industrious  mechanic 
when  Darling  came  in.  My  first  view  of  him  told  me 
plainly  that  he  was  no  ordinary  man  of  his  kind.  He 
was  tall — full  six  feet  three  ;  was  stoop  shouldered,  and 
he  had  a  neck  which  was  lono^  in  front  and  short  behind 
— giving  the  back  of  his  head  the  appearance  of  lying 
almost  between  his  shoulders.  He  had  the  largest 
"Adam's  apple''  that  I  ever  saw,  and  when  he  would 
swallow,  it  would  n>ake  excursions  up  and  down  like  a 
small  elevator  ;  and  he  had  the  worst  bow  legs  that  I 
ever  saw.  Now,  as  the  reader  knows,  tall  men  are  not 
bow  legged  as  a  rule;  but  Darling  was  an  exception. 
If  his  legs  had  been  straight  I  do  verily  believe  that  he 
would  have  been  over  seven  feet  high.  His  legs  looked 
like  exageratcd  parentheses.  I  have  heard  of  men  be- 
ing S0  bow  legged  that  they  could  not  head  off  a  pig. 
Darling  could  not  of  headed  a  yearling  calf  ;  and  his 
legs  were  so  very  long  in  proportion  to  his  height  ! 
Why,  he  looked  like  he  had  been  split  up  almost  to  the 
neck.  There  was  just  a  little  space  left,  just  above  his 
hips,  for  lungs.  Well,  he  cam.e  in,  and,  after  making  a 
profound  bow,  asked  : 
"Are  you  the  doctor  ?" 

"I  am  adodoi^,''    I  replied,  "  bu^  not  the  doctor.'' 
"Well,"  continued  Darling,  "  ef  you  have  no  objec- 
tions rd  like  to  ask  you  a  few  questions." 


The  Branch-Water  Man.  177 

I  authorized  him  to  go  ahead. 

"Well,  now,''  said  he,  "  in  the  first  place,  does  a 
woman  ever  go  crazy  from  hysterics?" 

"Yes,'' I  answered,  "we  have  a  form  of  insanity 
which  we  call  hysterical  mania. '^'' 

"Well,  now,  another  question  :  does  a  womaji  ever 
go  crazy  from  epilepsy  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  a  form  of  insanity  called  epileptic 
mania,''''  I  replied. 

"  Well,  now,  can  you  c2iore  it?" 

I  evaded  and  explained  and  then  asked  Darling  for 
the  history  and  symptoms.  He  gave  them — the  case 
being  none  other  than  that  of  his  young  wife.  He 
wound  up  his  statement  of  the  case  by  informing  me 
that  "  no  longer  than  this  mornin'  she  throwed  the  skil- 
let at  my  head  and  run  a  young  man  that  is  stayin'  at 
my  house  off  the  place  with  the  ax."     He  continued, 

"  She's  ben  sick,  sir,  more'n  four  year,  an'  in  that 
time  I've  paid  out  twenty  four  thousand  dollars  in  doc- 
tor's bills." 

I  suggested,  in  a  quiet  way,  that  I  presumed  that 
the  doctor  to  whom  he  paid  this  large  amount  of  money 
had  retired  from  practice. 

"  They  was  more'n  twenty  of  'em  sir.  Yes,  sir, 
more'n  twenty,  an'  they  hain't  none  of  them  done  her 
no  good." 

Would  I  see  her  ? 

I  evaded  and  explained  some  more  and  the  matter 
ended  with  an  understanding  between  D'arling  and  my- 


178  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

self  that  he  would  see  the  ma3'or  and  have  him  direct 
me  to  see  the  case  on  behalf  of  the  cit}^ 

I  found  the  woman  to  be  really  insane.  She  was 
the  young  wife  of  an  old  man,  had  a  young  baby,  and 
with,  practicall}^  no  home,  with  poor  nourishment,  add- 
ed to  a  natural  tendency,  what  little  intellect  she  had  had 
left  its  seat  and  taken  a  walk. 

With  city  drugs,  city  groceries  and  city  doctor  the 
woman  soon  recovered. 

At  my  last  visit  Darling  asked  if  he  could  ride 
down  town  with  me. 

This  was  a  thing  that  I  did  not  often  permit  men  of 
his  class  to  do;  but,  as  I  had  some  sharp  talk  for  Dar- 
ling, I  told  him  to  get  in.  When  he  sat  down  in  the 
buggy  his  knees  came  almost  up  to  his  chin. 

I  began  : 

"  How  is  it.  Darling,  that  3'ou  find  yourself  here,  at 
the  age  of  fifty,  in  such  a  condition  as  you  are — with  the 
city  furnishing  3'ou  with  a  doctor,  drugs  and  victuals.^ 
It  seems  to  me  that,  with  the  advantages  that  such  a 
country  as  this  has  afforded  you,  and,  with  nobody  to 
care  for  but  your  wife  and  baby,  you  ought  to  do  better 
than  you  have  done  and  not  half  try." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Darling,  "  it's  jest  as  I  told  you, 
IVe  spent  twenty-four  thousand  dollars  in  doctor's  bills 
on  that  woman  in  the  last  four  year." 

"  How  was  it  when  you  came  here.^  Didn't  you 
have  a  team  or  something?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  had  as  fine  a  pair  of  bosses  as  ever  sot 
foot  on  Mesoora  soil," 


The  Branch-Watkr  Man. 


179 


Just  at  this  juncture  we  came  in  sight  of  a  H^'ery 
stable,  in  front  of  which  a  beautiful  span  of  black  horses 
stood  hitched  to  a  nice  rig.  I  saw  Darling  look  at  them 
and  then  he  continued: 


"an'  it  fei^Iv  acrost,  er-ah,  acrost  the  wethers  of  one 
an'  the  lines  of  the  other." 
"  They  was  a  par  of,  er-ah,  of-er-blacks.      I  brought 
them  from  Eelinoy,  an'  I  paid  three  hundred  dollars  for 
'em  before  I  started  for  Mesoora.'' 


i8o  The  Branch-Water  Man. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  them,  Mr.-  DarHng.^  Did 
you  sell  them  and  eat  up  the  proceeds  ?"" 

"  No,  sir.  I  tuck  'em  out  to  my  father-in-law's  in 
the  country  an',  er-ah-er-rum,  I  er-turned  'em  out  in  his 
paster,  an'  they  was,  a-er-ah-er-rum,  a  big  storm  come 
up  one  day,  an',  er-ah,  they  was  a  standin' about  as  them 
bosses  is  a  standin'  thar  "  (pointing  to  the  blacks)  "un- 
der a  tree-a-er-ah-a  big  oak  tree,  an'  the  storm  blowed 
the  tree  down,  an'  it  fell  acrost  er-ah  acrost  the  wethers 
of  one  an'  the  lines  of  the  other  one,  an'  er-ah  an' 
killed  both  of  them,  an'  er-ah,  an'  er-rum,  an'  killed 
twent3'-three  hogs  for  my  father-in-law ! 

There  was  a  painful  pause  and  then  I  asked  : 

"  Darling,  were  there  any  cattle  in  that  lot  ?" 

"Well,  er-ah,  no;  wh}^?"  answered  Darling  with 
some  astonishment. 

"  I  didn't  know,''  I  said,  "  but  what  such  a  terrible 
storm  as  that  might  have  killed  some  cattle,  also!" 

"  No,"  said  Darling,  "  no,  sir,  they  wasn't  no  cattle 
killed — nothing  killed  but  jest  them  bosses  an'  them 
hogs." 

But-,  he  evidently  saw  the  point  in  my  question.  lie 
grew  uneasy.  He  shifted  and  twisted  around  in  his  seat 
and  tried  to  cross  his  legs,  which  he  failed  to  do  ;  and, 
finally,  looking  somewhat  embarrassed,  he  reached  out 
his  right  hand  and  laid  it  on  the  lines  ;  and,  in  a  dazed 
sort  of  way,  said, 

"Who-o-o-o." 

I  stopped  the  horse. 

"  I  guess  I'll  get  out  here,"  said  Darling,  as  he  un- 


The  Branch-Water  Man.  i8i 

tangled  his  parenthetic  legs.  He  climbed  slowly  out  of 
the  buggy  and  walked  straight  away — not  looking  back 
and  not  saying  good  bye. 

A  few  days  afterward  I  came  up  behind  Darling  on 
the  street.  He  had  on  a  short  coat  and  I  could  look 
between  his  legs  and  see  the  people  on  the  street  be- 
yond, like  looking  through  an  arch  or  a  tunnel.  I 
walked  past  him  and  he  saw  me;  but  he  did  not  recog- 
nize me,  nor  speak  to  me.  I  had  mortally  offended  him 
by  doubting  one  of  his  best  lies. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRAC- 
TICE. 

THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR — THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR'S  DREAM — 
OBSTACLES — MY  FIRST  CASE — LAUGHING  DOWN  HER  THROAT 
— THE  WIDOW  B.  AND  THE  NIGHT  I  SLEPT  WITH  THE  CAT — 
A   BLOOD   CURDLING   INCIDENT. 

HERE  are  few  callings  in  life 
which  bring  so  much  of  toil 
and  hardship  without  recom- 
pense, and  so  tax  a  man  in  his 
mental  and  physical  powers 
without  adequate  return  as 
that  of  the  practice  of  medi- 
cine. This  is  especially  true 
of  the  country  practitioner,  and 
more  especially  true  of  the 
young  country  practitioner. 

I  know  what  the  dream  of  the  young  doctor  is  be- 
fore he  starts  out  in  practice.  He  imagines  himself  set- 
tled in  a  prosperous  and  growing  city.  He  occupies 
two  or  three  magnificently  furnished  rooms  in  one  of  the 
best  business  blocks  for  an  office.  In  imagination  he 
sees  himself  sitting  in  this  splendid  palace,  and  the 
"Judge,"  the  "General,"  and  the  "  Colonel,"  the  first 
citizens  of  the  town,  coming  to  him  to  have  their  ail- 
ments attended  to,  and  calling  him  to  their  residences  in 


Thb  Ups  and  Downs  in  Early  Practice.  183 

cases  of  serious  illness,  "  and  all  goes  merry  as  a  mar- 
riage bell."  He  is  cruel  enough  in  his  vain-glorious  im- 
agination to  get  up  a  case  of  serious  sickness,  with  the 
Judge's  only  daughter  as  the  patient.  She  is  sick  al- 
most unto  death,  and  he  gets  up  some  private  theatricals 
when  he  announces  that  the  crisis  is  passed  and  the  fair 
one  is  safe  ;  when  the  mother  in  her  joy  weeps  out  her 
thanks  upon  his  scientific  neck,  while  the  Judge,  in  a 
gruff  and  dignified  way,  hands  him  a  check  big  enough 
to  buy  a  small  town,  and  says  : 

"Take  her,  my  dear  doctor,  take  her;  you  have 
fairly  won  her  and  she  is  yours.'' 

This  is  the  way  it  happens  before  we  begin,  but  it 
is  far  from  the  reality.  We  find  at  last  that  it  is  in  our 
profession,  as  it  is  in  every  thing  else,  that  which  is 
worth  having  must  be  procured  at  the  sacrifice  of  great 
labor. 

The  young  doctor,  in  order  to  do  any  practice  at  all, 
is  often  compelled  to  begin  his  professional  career  in  a 
very  small  town,  or,  it  may  be,  at  a  country  cross-roads. 
His  first  calls  are  generally  to  such  cases  among  the 
poor  as  have  exhausted  the  patience  and  skill  of  the  "old 
doctor."  He  has  a  chance  to  begin  the  practical  part 
of  his  business  where  poverty  dwells,  where  rags  and 
squalor  greet  the  eye.  True  charity  and  the  young  doc- 
tor make  their  visits  to  the  same  places — the  abodes  of 
the  humble  and  the  poor.  He  soon  finds  that  the  life  of 
the  true  physician  is  one  full  of  hardship  and  toil,  of 
heart  aches  and  disappointments,  and  brings,  perchance. 


184  The  Ups  ajstd  Downs  ix  Early  Practice. 

as  much  weariness  of    body  and  mind  as  any  other  busi- 
ness or  profession  he  might  have  chosen . 

Our  business  would  be  reheved  of  half  the  toil  nec- 
essary to  its  successful  prosecution,  if  there  was  a  more 
intelligent  understanding  of  it  and  less  superstition  con- 
cernino-  it  than  there  is. 

The  young  student  or  the  layman  who  reads  this 
may  fail  to  see  how  these  things  affect  the  doctor,  but 
the  student  will  find  out  after  he  enters  upon  the  prac- 
tice. He  will  find  that  he  h  practicing  a  mysterious  art, 
amongst  a  people  whose  ancestors  hung  persons  sus- 
pected of  the  power  of  witchcraft,  and  who  abused  and 
ostracised  the  unfortunate  insane  and  their  families. 
These  people  wi//  have  it  that  there  is  a  great  mystery 
hanging  about  our  profession.  They  have  inherited 
many  of  the  queer  ideas  and  superstitious  notions  of 
their  ancestors.  We  find  them  still  carrying  potatoes 
in  their  pockets  for  the  cure  of  rheumatism  and  buck- 
eyes for  another  complaint;  and,  notwithstanding,  the 
so-called  enlightenment  of  this  century,  they  insist  on 
putting  their  faith  in  such  things  as  burnt  feathers  and 
laying  on  of  hands.  Almost  any  man  we  meet  (no  mat- 
ter how  intelligent  he  may  be  concerning  other  things) 
will  attach  more  importance  to  a  remed}-  if  there  is  an 
air  of  mystery  about  it  than  he  will  if  it  is  something  so 
simple  that  its  value  can  be  practically  demonstrated  to 
him.  We  find  that  these  people  insist  that  a  man  must 
die  in  the  third  congestive  chill,  and  that,  if  he  falls  into 
the  water  and  sinks  the  third  time,  the  "  Ready  method 


The  Ups  and  Downs  op  Early  Practice.  185 

of   Marshall   Hall  "  will   be   of   no  avail,  though  he  may 
not  have  been  in  the  water  but  one  minute. 

It  is  a  great  damper  upon  the  feelings  of  the  3-oung 
practitioner  to  leave  his  patient  one  day  doing  well,  and 
return  the  next  to  find  his  or  her  nerves  knocked  into 
"  pi  "  and  half  the  neighborhood  holding  a  prayer  meet- 
ing in  the  supposed  chamber  of  death,  because  some 
one  has  discovered  that  a  bird  (seeking  refuge  from  a 
hawk)  has  flown  into  the  room,  or  an  innocent  dove, 
bereft  of  its  mate,  has  cooed  in  the  vicinity,  or  an  aspir- 
ing hen,  imitating  her  liege  lord,  has  crowed  aloud  in 
the  barn  yard. 

The  intelligent  and  worthy  3'oung  doctor  who  is 
struggling  to  earn  his  bread  can  not  feel  otherwise  than 
chagrined  when  he  sees  people,  whose  practice  he  thinks 
he  ought  to  do,  patronizing  the  most  blatant  quacks  and 
quack  institutions  and  sending  away  large  sums  of  mon- 
ey for  advertised  quack  nostrums. 

I  saw,  several  years  ago,  in  one  of  our  large  west- 
ern cities,  the  following  sign  : 

"  Lee  Chung, 
Washing,  Ironing 

and 

Headache  Doctor. 

Buttons  sewed  on  and  old  clothes  repaired. 

Patients  attended  at  all  hours  day  or  night." 

There  are  respectable  and  so-called  intelligent  peo- 
ple in  that  city,  who  would  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  en- 
tering the  Celestial  "  Washce  house  "  as  a  patient  in  the 


1 86  The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practice. 

day  time,  but  who  will  climb  his  back  stairs  in  the  "wee 
sma'  hours  "  and  sit  awed  and  dumb  in  the  presence  of 
Chinese  herbs,  dried  toads  and  pulverized  lizards. 

The  reader  will,  perhaps,  recognize  a  familiar  fact, 
when  I  state  that  there  are  not  three  ladies  out  of  five  in 
his  state  (it  makes  no  difference  which  state)  who  will 
dare  to  have  a  dress  cut  and  fitted  on  Friday,  and  very 
few  men  or  women  who  will  change  their  places  of  abode 
or  start  on  a  journey  on  the  same  awful  Hay. 

If  any  young  man  wlio  enters  the  profession  should 
start  out  and  travel  from  town  to  town  dressed  in  the 
fantastic  costume  of  an  Arab,  perched  upon  the  back 
of  a  camel,  and  should  proclaim  by  hand-bills  and  posters 
that  his  remedies  are  all  "purely  vegetable,"  and  were 
brought  from  Central  Africa  by  the  Stanley  Expedition, 
he  would,  no  doubt,  do  much  better  than  he  would  by 
doing  an  honest  and  legitimate  business.  If  obtaining 
money  were  the  only  consideration  we  might  all  adopt 
the  motto  :  "  Mankind  is  a  goose  and  I  was  made  to 
pick  him,"  and  succeed  much  better  than  we  do  by  be- 
ing honest,  truthful,  conscientious  and  wise. 

If  any  man  disputes  this  J  will  simply  point  him  to 
the  magnificent  palaces  occupied  by  ignorant  and  blat- 
ant quacks  in  all  of  our  large  cities,  and  then  to  the  hum- 
ble houses  of  the  many,  many  hard  working  and  de- 
serving physicians  everywhere. 

The  many  disappointments  and  heartaches  of  the 
young  doctor  are  sometimes  relieved  or  varied  by  the 
queer  and  ludicrous  things  that  he  hears  or  that  happen 


The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Eari^y  Practice.  187 

in  his  daily  rounds.  If  he  has  a  keen  appreciation  of  the 
ridiculous  he  may  be  saved  from  suicide  at  least. 

Does  my  professional  reader  remember  his  first 
case  ?  I  shall  never  forget  mine.  When  on  the  wa}' 
to  see  my  first  patient,  I  felt  like  I  was  preparing  to  go 
up  in  a  balloon.  On  entering  the  sick  room  I  had  a  sen- 
sation as  if  I  were  walking  on  sand  which  was  giving 
way  under  my  feet ;  and  when  I  felt  his  pulse  (about 
which  I  am  afraid  I  knew  very  little)  and  tried  to  look 
dignified  and  wise,  the  objects  in  the  room  grew  double 
and  danced  around  like  puppets  on  a  hand  organ.  But 
I  prescribed.  I  got  a  half-pint  bottle,  partly  filled  it 
with  water  and  put  in  something  for  each  symptom  I 
had  noticed  and  some  other  things  "just  for  luck."  The 
mixture  heaved  and  swelled  a  few  times  like  the  tide, 
turned  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  in  succession,  and  then 
settled  down  to  the  consistency  of  soap  suds  with  a 
heavy  sediment  at  the  bottom;  and  the  poor  fellow  lay 
there  and  took  a  teaspoonful  of  that  stuff  every  three 
hours  and  actually  got  well.  He  believes  yet  that  I 
cured  him,  but  I  know  better. 

I  came  very  near  losing  the  practice  of  a  good  fam- 
ily once  by  an  inconsiderate  and  untimely  laugh.  It 
was  in  my  early  professional  life,  and  I  did  not  have  that 
control  over  my  emotions  that  older  persons  possess.  I 
was  called  to  see  a  lady  who  was  suffering  with  a  sore 
throat.  She  was  a  good  woman  but  had  an  unearthly 
mouth.  It  was  simply  cavernous.  When  I  took  her  to 
the  light  to  examine  her  throat  she  opened  her  mouth 
so  wide,  rolled   up   her   eyes  so    peculiarly,  and  put  on 


i88  The  Ups  and  Downs  op  Eari^y  Practice. 

such  a  doleful  expression  of  countenance  that  I  broke 
down  and  laughed  right  down  her  throat.  That  laugh 
echoed  and  reverberated  through  the  deep  and  myster- 
ious labyrinths  of  that  awful  chasm.  She  closed  her 
mouth  with  an  ominous  snap  and  asked  me  what  I  was 
laughing  at.  I  don't  remember  what  answer  I  made, 
but  this  I  do  remember:  I  told  a  little  "  white  fib  "  and 
came  out  of  the  difficulty  covered  all  over  with  mortifi- 
cation. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  case  in  which  I  was 
beaten  and  routed  by  the  manifestation  of  the  supersti- 
tious ideas  of  which  I  have  spoken. 

There  was  a  family  of  three  men  and  two  women 
recently  from  Canada,  who  had  been  penned  up  all  win- 
ter in  a  little  log  cabin  with  two  rooms  and  living  upon 
bread,  coffee  and  over-salted  meat. 

They  were  all  more  or  less  affected  with  a  peculiar 
blood  condition,  popularl}^  called  scurvy.  One  of  the 
women  was  in  a  deplorable  condition.  Her  gums  were 
bleeding  and  her  limbs  were  purple  and  swollen.  I  pre- 
scribed lemons  and  vegetables  and  went  home  and  read 
everything  I  could  find  bearing  on  the  subject.  I  called 
two  days  afterward  to  see  how  my  patient  was  getting 
along  and  found  that  they  had  bought,  killed  and 
skinned  a  sheep,  and  had  wrapped  her  limbs  in  the  hide 
and  had  applied  small  bits  of  raw  mutton  across  her 
forehead,  under  her  eyes,  and  on  her  lips,  chin,  and  neck. 
They  k7iew  the  rei7iedy  as  soon  as  I  told  them  what  the 
disease  was.  I  admitted  to  them  that  fresh  mutton  was  a 
good  thing  but  told  them  that  they  had  applied  it  to  the 


The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practice.  189 

wrong  side!  The  woman  got  well  when  turnip  greens 
got  ripe. 

I  came  home  one  night  after  having  been  lost  in 
the  dark,  timbered  bottoms  of  the  river.  I  had  floun- 
dered around  in  the  darkness  for  two  hours  during  which 
time  I  had  dismounted  several  times  in  order  to  find  the 
road,  and  got  myself  covered  with  mud.  It  was  a  warm, 
cloudy  summer  night,  dark  as  pitch  and  threatening  rain. 
I  had  taken  off  my  muddy  clothing  and  was  preparing 
for  the  rest  which  I  so  much  needed,  when  the  familiar 
'' hello!"  came  from  the  front  gate.  I  let  the  fellow 
repeat  it  several  times  and  then  went  to  the  door  and 
asked  w^hat  was  wanted.  He  said  he  wanted  me  to  go 
out  into  the  state  of  Kansas  about  seven  miles  to  see  the 
widow  B. 

I  asked  him  to  give  me  the  symptoms  and  I  would 
send  her  some  medicine  and  come  out  the  next  morning. 
He  didn't  know  the  symptoms;  couldn"'t  give  me  the 
least  idea  of  what  her  ailment  was  ;  knew  nothing  in 
fact  except  that  she  was  very  sick  and  he  feared  she 
would  die  if  she  was  not  relieved  that  night.  Fearing 
that  the  woman  might  be  in  danger  and  hoping  also  to 
receive  the  influence  of  a,  perhaps,  rich  widow,  in  a  new 
neighborhood  I  decided  to  go.  By  the  time  w^e  started 
the  rain  began  to  pour  down  in  torrents.  The  thunders 
pealed  and  boomed  and  the  lightnings  flashed  and 
blazed  in  our  immediate  vicinity  every  second. 

The  very  earth  shook  and  trembled  with  the  shock 
of  the  storm.  It  was  a  grand,  an  awful  and  a  terrible  night. 


igo  The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practick. 

"  Sic  a  night  I  tak  the  road  in, 
As  ne'er  poor  sinner  was  abroad  in; 
That  night  a  child  might  understand, 
The  de'il  had  business  on  his  hand." 

We  rode  on  through  this  war  of  the  elements — this 
pitched  battle  of  Heaven^s  artillery — with  nothing  to 
guide  us  but  tHe  lightning's  flash  and  the  instinct  of  the 
scrub  horse  which  my  messenger  rode.  We  finally 
emerged  from  the  timber  and,  being  informed  that  I  was 
near  my  journey's  end,  I  strained  my  eyes  and  peered 
through  the  darkness  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  stateh' 
mansion  of  the  supposed  rich  widow.  Upon  ascending 
a  gentle  slope  in  the  edge  of  the  prairie  there  came  a 
vivid  flash  of  lightning,  and  by  its  light  I  saw,  clearly 
outlined  against  the  western  sky — a  single  log  cabin  with 
no  fence  around  it! 

We  dismounted  and  my  messenger  directed  me  to 
go  in  while  he  tied  the  horses.  I  went  in  and  groped 
around  in  the  darkness  until  I  found  an  excuse  for  a 
chair.  My  messenger  came  in  and  struck  a  light,  and 
this  is  the  wa}'  he  struck  it : 

He  uncovered  some  coals  in  an  old  fashioned  fire 
place  ;  turned  an  oven  lid  on  its  back  on  these  coals  ; 
got  a  chunk  of  bacon  from  a  sack  in  the  corner,  from 
which  he  cut  some  slices  which  he  threw  on  the  oven 
lid.  While  the  grease  was  frying  out  of  the  bacon  he 
got  a  bucket  top  in  which  he  placed  a  cotton  rag  twisted 
like  a  whip  lash  ;  he  then  poured  the  grease  into  the 
bucket  top,  and  then  got  down  in  the  attitude  of  a  Jap- 
anese making  a  gravid  salaam  before  a  Tycoon  with  ten 
tails,  and  blew  until  the  rag  ignited. 


Thk  UPvS  and  Downs  of  Eari^v  Pkactick.  191 

It  sputtered  and  fried  and  sizzled,  and  cast  shadows 
which  were  constantl}"^  changing  from  the  walls  to  the 
floor.  By  this  light  I  was  enabled  to  make  out  two 
beds,  in  one  of  which  were  four  boys.  On  the  edge  of 
the  other  sat  a  woman  about  forty-five  years  of  age, 
with  dark  hair,  combed  down  close  upon  the  sides  of  a 
low  forehead.  Her  eyes  were  small,  black  and  pene- 
trating ;  her  nose  long  and  sharp,  and  her  mouth  gave 
her  the  appearance  of  having  been  struck  across  the  face 
with  a  corn  knife,  the  angles  of  the  gash  turned  down 
and  the  wound  healed  "by  the  first  intention." 

She  was  busy  folding  some  article  of  wearing  ap- 
parel into  as  small  a  compass  as  she  could  get  it,  and 
then  just  as  deliberately  unfolding  it  again. 

After  viewing  her  awhile  I  said, 

"  How  do  you  do,  madam  ?''' 

"  How  do  you  do.^"  she  said. 

"Are  you  the  sick  lady  ?'' 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  answered  in  a  whining  voice. 

"How  long  have  you  been  sick?" 

"  About  thirteen  years." 

"Well,  but  you  are  worse  than  usual  to-night,  are 
you  not?" 

"  No,  I  am  always  about  the  same." 

"  Great  Heavens!"  I  thought ;  "here  is  a  woman 
who  has  been  sick  for  thirteen  years  and  has  waited  for 
one  of  the  worst  nights  of  her  whole  life  to  send  for  me." 

I  felt  and  thought  unutterable  things,  but  I  did 
nothing  rash.  I  had  a  family  and  couIdn''t  afford  to  be 
a  murderer.     I  think  now    I    ought    have   thrashed   the 


192 


The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practice. 


fellow  who  came  after  me    for    his  participation  in  the 
outrage.     I  continued  : — 

"  What  do  you  complain  of?" 

"  I  have  a  pain  over  my   left  eye.     Dr.  Morse  says 
It  is  a  sun  pain.'' 

The  truth  of  the  whole  matter  was,  as  I  afterwards 
.-li^;^?^-:^-^^^.^^  -.  learned,    that      she 

yy,    had  got  mad  at  her 


THEY    HAD    A    REGULAR    ALL    HANDS 
AROUND   FIGHT. 

oldest  son  and  sent  him  after  the  "  new  doctor  "  for  a 
punishment.  She  was  part  Indian,  but  had  enough 
white  blood  in  her  to  make  her  mean. 

I  gave  her  a  quieting  powder  and  prepared  to  re- 
main all  night,  as  I  could  not  think  of  going  out  into  the 
storm  again. 

The  messenger  prepared  me  a  bed  and  this  is  the 
way  he  gave  himself  to  this  task  : 

He  dragged  one  of  the  four  boys  from  the  bed,  and 
while    he  was    dragging  number    two  out  number  one 


Thk  Ups  and  Downs  of  Karly  Practice. 


193 


climbed  back  again,  and  number  two  got  in  while  he 
was  pulling  number  three  out. 

I  sat  and  watched  the  circus.  They  had  a  regular 
"  all  hands  around  "  fight,  in  which  all  took  a  part,  but 
he  finally  "  put  down  the  rebellion,"  and  triumphantly- 
pulled  a  feather  bed  off  and  threw  it  on  the  floor,  with- 
out sheet,  blanket  or  pillow,  and  said, 

"Doc,  you  kin  sleep  thar.'' 

I  was  utterly  tired  out  and  so  lay  down  with  my 
pants  on.  He  threw  over  me  for  cover,  an  old  Federal 
army  overcoat. 

This  was  just  after  the  war  and  I  held  a  blue  over- 
coat in  perfect  horror. 

The  bed  was  dirty  and  greasy — so  greasy  that  my 
face  actually  stuck  to  it — and  the  overcoat  was  worse. 
So,  from  shrinking  downward  from  the  coat  and  upward 
from  the  bed  I  was  somewhat  in  the  condition  of  the  old 
negro's  fish — "awfully  swunk  up." 

Pretty  soon  a  cat  came  and  got  in  bed  with  me. 
he  did  not  say  so  much  as  "  by  your  leave,  sir,"  but  got 
in  with  an  air  of  confidence  which  indicated  that  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  the  "  spare  bed  "  with  com- 
pany. 

Under  the  influence  of  his  gentle  and  soothing  purr 
I  soon  fell  asleep.  As  I  had  my  wet  clothing  on  I  soon 
got  hot  on  the  under  side  which  necessitated  my  turn- 
ing over.  I  did  so,  and,  of  course,  turned  over  on  the 
cat.  That  cat  "  humped  himself  "  and  clawed  for  the 
free  air  and  liberty.  He  uttered  an  exclamation,  hi  cat, 
which  I  translated  to  mean  that  he  wanted  me  to  move 


194 


The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Eari.y  Practice. 


He  did  not  have  to  repeat  it.  I  moved.  The  cat 
seemed  to  be  ruffled  in  his  feelings  and  so  concluded  to 
sit  up  a  while.  I  went  to  sleep.  I  do  not  know  how 
Ions:  it  was  before  he  came  back  to  bed,  but  I  know  that 
when  I  turned  over  again,  he  was  there  and  received  me 
with  eclat. 

This  time  I    grabbed  the  cat  and  wildly  threw  him 
from  me.     He   went  into  the  fire.     Then  the  ashes  and 

spit    did     fly! 
He  sat  before 
iV  the   fire,  look- 
\ed  into  it  pen- 
;'sively     and 
licked  his  feet. 
If    it   had 
;(/ been  the  wid- 
ow I  wouldn't 
havecared,but 
I  was  sorry  for 
the    c  at .     I 
turned  over  on 
him    about   a 

I    WILDLY   THREW    HIM    FROM    ME-  dozeu  timeS 

that  night — the  cat  becoming  more  demonstrative 
and  obstreperous  each  time.  Taking  it  altogether 
he  succeeded  in  setting  up  a  lively  counter  irrita- 
tion along  the  course  of  my  spine.  My  wife  said  my 
back  looked  like  a  railroad  map  of  the  state  of  Illinois, 
or  the  ledger  of  a  Chinese  laundry. 

When  1  awoke  the  next  morning  the  sun  was  pour- 


Thk  Ups  and  Downs  of  Hari.y  Practice.  195 

ing  his  gentle  beams  on  a  refreshed  earth,  and  the  adja- 
cent forest  was  vocal  with  the  music  of  the  sono-  birds. 

I  think  the  flies  of  Kansas  were  holding  a  state 
convention  in  that  cabin,  with  a  full  delegation  from  each 
township  and  ward  in  the  state.  When  I  attempted  to 
make  out  some  quinine  powders  they  sent  a  committee 
of  one  from  each  township  to  see  what  it  was.  It  was  a 
"  smelling  committee  "  and  it  went  vigorously  to  work. 
The}'  sat  on  ni}'  powders  and  when  I  would  "  shoo  " 
them  away,  with  the  flapping  of  their  wings  and  the 
kicking  of  their  legs  they  sent  my  quinine  flying  in  all 
directions. 

I  tried  it  over  and  over  again  until  I  wasted  about 
fifty  cents  worth  of  quinine.  I  then  adjourned  to  an  oak 
tree  some  twenty  rods  away  and  finished  making  out 
the  powders. 

Reader,  I  went  through  all  of  this  without  getting 
mad  or  swearing  (though  I  confess  the  cat  wounded  my 
feelings)  and,  as  I  rode  home  that  beautiful  summer 
morning  I  thought  that  if  old  Uncle  Job  (I  think  I  had 
a  right  to  call  him  uncle,  then)  could  have  made  his 
appearance  on  earth  and  had  met  me,  he  would  have 
taken  me  by  the  hand  and  said, 

"  My  son,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  ;  I  am  really  proud 
to  meet  you.  There  are  so  few  of  our  family  left  down 
here  that  when  I  do  meet  one  of  them  I  feel  like  em- 
bracing him.     Shake!" 

I  remember  another  incident  about  this  time  which 
I  think  worth  recordinsf. 

A  messenger  came  one   summer  Sundaj-  afternoon 


196  The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practice. 

for  me  to  go  eighteen  miles  to  see  a  sick  family.  I 
knew  the  messenger.  He  was  a  well-to-do  farmer,  a 
bachelor,  and  an  occasional  drunkard.  He  delivered  the 
message,  received  my  promise  to  come,  and  rode  away. 

I  prepared  myself  for  the  journey,  got  into  my 
buggy  and  started  on  my  lonesome  drive.  Twelve 
miles  of  my  route  was  over  a  prairie,  without  a  tree  or 
a  house  to  break  the  monotony.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  1  got  away  and  by  the  time  I  had  trav- 
ersed the  first  six  miles — where  I  had  timber,  the  river 
and  farms — darkness  had  set  in.  It  was  dark,  not 
pitch  dark,  but  that  uncertain  light  mixed  with  the 
darkness  which  made  it  as  bad  as  if  there  had  been  nc 
light  at  all.  There  was  a  shimmering  lightning  playing 
low  down  upon  the  horizon  in  the  south  and  south-west. 

After  I  entered  on  the  prairie  it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  was  either  just  about  to  plunge  into  a  deep  chasm  or 
run  into  an  impassable  bank  all  the  time,  I  drove  a 
moon-eyed  horse — which  was  a  born  idiot.  When  I 
entered  on  the  prairie  I  struck  a  mere  path  in  the  high 
grass  which  lead  diagonally  across  the  country,  from 
south-east  to  north-west;  and  this  was  all  the  load  I  had 
to  my  destination.  My  horse  soon  began  to  puff  and 
snort,  and  would  occasionally  sidle  out  and  leave  the 
path  entirely.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  the  air  was  full 
of  spooks  and  ghosts  and  all  manner  of  supernatural 
things.  His  apparent  fright  put  me  to  thinking  of  rob- 
bers, murderers  and  other  beasts  of  prey.  I  soon  found 
that  I  was  scared.  I  am  not  ordinarily,  and  never  have 
been,  afraid  of  nights  ;   but  on  this  particular  night  I  felt 


The  Ups  and  DowNvS  of  Early  Practice.  197 

the  cold  chills  run  up  and  down  my  spine,  and  my  hair 
would  rise  up  in  spite  of  me. 

When  I  had  gotten  about  midway  of  the  prairie 
and  was  driving  at  a  lively  trot  my  horse  suddenly  shied, 
and  there  loomed  up  just  to  my  right  a  great  black 
something — 1  could  not  tell  what.  I  knew  there  was  no 
tree  or  bush  or  habitation  of  living  thing  within  six  miles 
either  way.  With  the  instinct  of  self  preservation  and 
defence  I  struck  out  at  this  object  with  my  whip,  and 
there  came,  of  all  the  sounds  I  ever  heard  the  one  least 
expected — that  of  a  leather  saddleskirt! 

Anybody  who  ever  struck  a  saddleskirt  with  a  stick 
or  whip  knows  that  it  does  not  give  forth  a  sound  like 
anything  else,  and  what  was  more,  the  saddle  was  on  a 
horse,  and  the  horse  jumped  and  snorted.  M}'  own 
horse  rose,  plunged  forward,  and  went  some  ten  paces 
before  I  could  stop  him.  I  listened.  The  horse  would 
snort  and  then  chew.  Then  I  thought  I  heard  men 
talking  In  front  of  me.  Then  the  sound  of  conversation, 
which  was  low  and  Indistinct — seemed  to  get  around  to 
my  left;  then  It  would  shift  in  some  other  direction. 
Then  the  horse  would  snort  and  chew  again.  I  finally 
located  what  I  had  taken  for  the  low  conversation  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  horse.  I  determined  to  ferret  the 
matter  out  and  see  what  It  was. 

I  dismounted  from  my  buggy,  tied  m}^  lines  secure- 
ly and  went  slowly  and  cautiously  back  toward  the 
horse.  I  found  the  animal  quite  gentle,  patted  him  and  felt 
about  his  head,  and  then  felt  for  the  bridle.  I  found  the 
reins  and  discovered  that  they  led  toward  the  ground  and 


1 98 


The  Ups  and  Downs  of  Early  Practice. 


were  fast.  I  followed  the  reins  toward  the  ground  and 
here  found  them — in  a  7na7i's  hand/  The  man  was  pros- 
trate and  apparently  asleep.  I  got  down  on  my  knees, 
made  out  his  outlines  and  then  shook  him  and  called. 
He  came  to  a  sitting  posture  in  a  jiffy  and  reached  for 
his  pistol.  I  knew  he  was  reaching  for  his  pistol  be- 
cause I  had  him  by  the  arms.     I  threw  him  on  his  back 


I  THREW  HIM  ON  HIS    BACK   AND    PIJ^NED  HIM   TO  THE  GROUND. 

and  pinned  him  to  the  ground  with  my  right  knee  on  his 
chest.  He  strugorled  but  I  held  fast — telling  him  to  "be 
quiet  and  don't  shoot."  He  raved  and  swore,  and  final- 
ly, discovering  that  I  was  the  better  man,  asked: 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want.^" 

"  I  am  Dr.  King,"  I  answered. 


The  Ups  and  Downs  op  Early  Practice.  199 

"  Wh}",  how  are  you,  doctor?'''  said  he,  in  a  natural 
voice  which  I  at  once  recognized  as  the  voice  of  my 
messenger. 

He  had.  got  into  a  saloon,  "by  that  little  side  door," 
and  bought  a  pint  of  whiskey,  which  he  told  me  he 
drank  in  the  first  six  miles.  By  the  time  he  reached 
this  place  he  was  so  drunk  that  he  felt  that  he  would 
soon  fall  off;  so  he  dismounted  and  la}'  down  to  sleep 
off  his  drunk  and  give  his  excretory  organs  time  to 
throw  off  the  alcohol. 

The  voices  I  seemed  to  hear  was  nothing  more  than 
the  occasional  snoring  of  this  drunken  man. 

But  it  was  the  worst  scare  I  ever  had  in  my  life. 
From  that  hour  until  now  my  hair  has  been  a  light 
chestnut  sorrel — the  same  coloi^-  it  was  before.  * 


*  This  notion  about  a  person's  haii*  turning  grey  in  an  instant,  or  in  a  single 
niglit,  is  a  n\yth.  No  sucli  tiling  ever  occurred.  It  is  a  physiological  and  physi- 
cal impossibility.  Even  if  the  hair  follicle  should  die  at  once  the  hair  would 
remain  its  original  color  until  it  grew  oat.  It  is  always  safe  to  donbt  anything 
which  can  not  be  explained  or  accounted  for  on  reasonable  or  scientific  grounds. 


CHAPTER  XI.' 

UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED. 

A  CONTRAST — HOW  TO  TELI.  WHEN  YOUR  PATIENT  IS 
DEAD — CUPPING  THE  OLD  LADY — SMART  PEOPLE — THE  SICK 
HORSE — FIGHTING    FIRE — THE  PRAIRIE  MIRAGE — HOME    AGAIN 

W/M  wM  ^^  ^'^y  physician  has  opportunities  which  his 
^  ^^  less  favo'red  country  brother  has  not,  and  en- 
joys advantages  which  the  country  brother 
craves,  but  never  possesses. 
There  are  the  medical  colleges, 
the  post-mortems,  the  dissecting 
rooms  and  the  medical  societies. 
But  the  country  brother  has  the 
free  air,  the  night  rides  and  an 
unrestrained  liberty  with  wild 
and  uncultivated  nature,  and 
above  all,  he  has  for  his  clientele  the  great  middle  class- 
es— the  farmers — the  noblest  and  best  of  God's  creation 
in  any  country.  Of  course  he  has  his  poor,  who  are  ig- 
norant and  don't  pay.  So  do  all,  everywhere  ;  but  the 
best  of  all  is  that  the  best  of  those  who  patronize  the 
country  doctor  are  a  noble  and  free  people — a  people  so 
free  indeed  that  they  will  not  suffer  themselves  to  be 
hampered  by  foolish  social  customs. 

There  are  many   things    which  the    country   doctor 
learns  b}'  experience  besides  how  to  give  medicines. 


Ups  and  Downs  Continued. 


20I 


He  learns  how  to  tell  when  his  patient  is  dead  be- 
fore he  reaches  the  house.  Now,  the  city  doctor  would 
look  for  crepe  on  the  door;  but  not  so  with  the  coun- 
try brother.  You  do  not  find  crepe  there.  Now  my 
aesthetic  reader  raises  his,  her  or  its  hands  in  holy  horror 
and  says  : 


I  APPROACH- THE  HOUSE  SLOWLY  AND  LOOK  FOR  THE  BED. 

"  What  awfully  hawid  customs  !  How  can  they 
die  without  cwape  on  the  door?" 

"  Well,  they  just  die.  People  have  died,  my  dear 
aesthetic  noodle,  where  there  was  no  crepe — the}'  died 
even  before  crepe   was  made,  3'ou  poor  silly  thing.     It 


202  Ups  and  Downs  Continued. 

requires  a  great  deal  to  help  us  to  live,  but  it  requires 
nothing  to  help  us  to  die.  Of  all  the  things  that  we  do 
dying  requires  the  least  assistance.  A  man  will  die 
sometimes,  if  you  will  go  off  and  leave  him  alone  and 
don't  help  him  any. 

But  how  can  the  country  doctor  tell  before  he 
reaches  the  house  whether  or  not  his  patient  has 
"  stepped  across  the  way,"  since  his  last  visit  ? 

By  the  bed  on  the  fence! 

The  people  (at  least,  many  of  them)  have  a  habit, 
when  one  of  the  family  dies,  of  taking  the  bed  upon 
which  the  dead  one  lay  and  the  clothes  which  covered 
him  and  putting  them  on  the  3'ard  fence.  As  a  rule  the 
more  ignorant,  uncultivated  and  thoughtless  they  are, 
the  nearer  they  will  get  it  to  the  front  gate. 

Oh,  how  I  have  strained  my  eyes  and  looked  for 
that  bed.  I  left  my  patient  the  day  before  with  a  high 
fever,  a  rapid  and  weak  pulse,  and  ail  the  evidences  of 
coming  disorganization  and  death,  and  went  home  to 
think  and  wait.  My  opinion  is  that  I  will  never  see  him 
alive  again.  I  approach  the  house  slowly  and  look  for 
the  bed.  I  think  that,  perhaps,  they  have  made  a  mis- 
take and  put  it  on  the  back  fence.  I  therefore  pull  my 
horse  over  a  little  toward  the  horse  lot  in  order  to  get  a 
view  of  the  back  yard ;  and  if  I  see  no  bed  how  my 
heart  leaps.  I  have  one  more  chance  to  stimulate  and 
bolster  up  the  vital  powers  and  perchance  to  save  his 
life. 

But  the  country  doctor  makes  his  mistakes  as  well 
as  his  city  brother. 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continu:Ed.  203 

I  remember  well  my  first  mistake,  and  it  annoyed 
me  not  a  little. 

In  my  first  practice  I  soon  met  the  smart  old  woman 
"  who  loved  to  nurse  sick  folks."  She  wore  a  bandana 
handkerchief  around  her  head  and  a  mole  on  her  nose, 
and  was  good  at  making  mustard  draughts,  mush  poul- 
tices and  suggestions.  The  old  lady  and  I  soon  became 
fast  friends,  and  would  have  remained  so,  I  suppose,  if 
she  had  not  fallen  sick.  She  sent  for  me.  She  had  a 
terrible  pain  in  the  region  of  the  umbilicus  and  I  decided 
to  cup  her.  Having  no  cupping  glasses,  I  had  to  resort 
to  something  of  domestic  use,  and,  after  some  thought, 
decided  upon  a  glass  tumbler.  They  brought  me  a  very 
large  one.  Having  exposed  the  parts  to  be  cupped  I  put 
a  burning  paper  into  the  bottom  of  the  glass  and  when 
the  air  was  expelled  I  quickly  inverted  it  over  the  abdo- 
men. The  abdominal  parieties  were  lax  and  unresisting 
and  so,  the  whole  abdomen  just  walked  right  into  the 
glass.  It  went  in  with  a  whiz,  in  fact.  The  old  lady 
howled  and  the  glass  kept  pulling  in  more  abdomen. 
"  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,"  but  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  nature  where  she  was  so  abhorrent  as  in  this  case. 
She  seemed  disgusted  with  it  in  fact,  and  determined  to 
fill  it  if  it  took  the  whole  abdomen  and  the  old  woman 
with  it  to  complete  the  job.  The  glass  pulled  in  about 
a  quarter  of  an  acre  and  then  stopped  and  shook  itself, 
but  didn't  let  go.  By  this  time  the  old  woman  began  to 
yell  vociferously  and  declared  that  I  was  killing  her. 
The  vacuum  had  pulled  the  symphisis  pubis  up  to  one 
side  of  the  glass  and  the  scrobiculis  cordis  to  the  other, 


204 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 


and  she  was  doubled  up  so  that  her  back  began  to  crack, 
and  I  really  began  to  have  fears  for  the  integrity  of  her 
spine.  She  yelled  louder  and  I  attempted  to  pull  the 
glass  loose.  Did  you  ever  try  to  part  two  fighting 
bull  dogs  ?  Well,  that  was  nothing  to  the  glass.  When 
I  tried  to  insert  my  finger  so  as  to  let  the  air  in  some 
more  abdomen  crawled  in,  and  the  old  woman's  shoul- 
ders hung  forward  and  looked  suspiciously  like  a  sub- 
caraoid  dislocation  of    both   humeri   and  her  knees  flew 

up.  I  am  not 
easily  discon- 
certed but 
this  upset  me. 
I  felt  like  a 
fool,  and  for 
the  time  I 
thought  I  was 
but  I  know 
bet  t  e  r  now. 
I  was  just 
mistaken  a 

I  GOT  A  HATCHET  AND  BROKE  THE  GLASS.        little     i  U     t  h  C 

matter  of  how  to  cup.  But  I  was  the  Alexander  who 
had  to  untie  this  Gordian  knot  and  I  did  it  in  much  the 
same  manner  as  Alexander.  I  got  a  hatchet  and  broke 
the  glass.  When  I  drew  back  to  strike  the  blow,  the 
old  lady  threw  up  both  hands,  shut  her  eyes,  raised  her 
voice  from  "A  minor,"  to  "high  G,"  a  key  she  had  not 
struck  before.      But  I  struck  the  blow.     The  jj^lass  flew 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued.  205 

all  over  the  house  and  the  mountains  went  back  to  the 
valleys  again. 

She  called  me  a  fool  and  I  didn't  dispute  it  for  I  was 
so  confused  that  I  didn't  know  whether  I  was  or  not. 

We  never  spoke  again. 

The  country  doctor  has  the  same  trouble  with 
smart  people  who  wish  to  prescribe,  or  teach  him  how 
to  do  so,  that  his  city  brother  has. 

You  may  find  a  man  occasionally  who  is  willing  to 
admit  that  he  does  not  know  how  to  treat  a  sick  horse, 
but  you  do  not  find  many  who  do  not  think  they  know 
how  to  prescribe  for  a  sick  neighbor.  It  requires  adroit 
diplomacy,  in  city  or  country,  to  get  these  people  out  of 
the  way  without  the  aid  of  the  coroner. 

Speaking  of  prescribing  for  sick  horses  reminds  me 
of  an  incident  which  happened  only  a  few  years  ago. 
Passing  down  the  street  one  day  in  company  with  a 
prominent  minister  of  the  gospel  in  my  town,  we  discov- 
ered a  horse  lying  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  a 
man  standing  by  and  holding  the  bridle.  The  horse 
was  lying  flat  on  his  side  with  his  head  and  legs  extend- 
ed.    I  said  to  the  minister : 

"  There  is  a  sick  horse.  Let's  go  over  and  see 
what  proportion  of  the  passers-by  will  prescribe  for 
him." 

"What  makes  you  think  they  will  prescribe.^"  he 
asked. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  I,  "  come  along  and  we  will 
see. 


2o6  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

We  stood  near  the  horse  and  waited.  A  man  came 
along,  stopped  and  looked  a  moment  and  said: 

"  Hello  !  what's  the  matter  with  your  horse  ?" 

"  Got  the  colic,"  answered  the  owner. 

"  Why  don't  you  give  him  fresh  lye  off  of  ashes? 
That'll  stop  it  in  a  jiffy  ;  always  cures  mine.'* 

Then  another  came , 

"  Hello!  what  ails  your  horse  ?" 

"  Got  the  colic,"  was  the  answer  again. 

"  Why  don't  you  give  him  butter-milk  and  mo- 
lasses ?     That'll  knock  it  every  pop." 

Then  another : 

"  Hello!  what  ails  your  horse  ?" 

Same  answer : 

"  Give  him  ginger  and  pepper,  and  he'll  be  all  right 
in  fifteen  minutes." 

Another : 

"Why  don't  3'ou  bleed  him  in  the  mouth  ?" 

"I  have,''  said  the  dejected  owner,  ''  don't  you  see 
the  blood  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sure  enough.  Well,  just  let  him  alone  ; 
that'll  fetch  him  out  all  right." 

We  stood  there  about  thirty  minutes,  during  which 
time  seventeen  men  came  along  and  fourteen  of  them 
prescribed — scarcely  any  two  having  the  same  prescrip- 
tion— which  goes  to  show  the  unreliability  of  veterinary 
therapeutics  as  it  comes  from  the  crowd. 

"  Well,"  said  the  minister,  "that  beats  all." 

He  came  to  my  office  the  next  morning,  laughing 
as  if  he  would  split  his  sides,  and  said ; 


Ups  and  Downs,' Continued.  207 

"  I  went  home  last  night  and  told  my  wife  of  our 
funny  experience  with  the  sick  horse,  and  before  she 
had  time  to  see  the  point  she  asked  :  '  Why  didn't  they 
give  him  water  off  of  green  coffee  ?  That's  the  way  pa 
always  cured  his.'  " 

This  only  shows  the  proneness  of  mankind  to  pre- 
scribe for  an3'thing  that  is  sick.  The  disposition  often 
comes  from  an  inordinate  self  conceit,  but  I  am  led  to 
believe  that  it  comes  oftener  from  a  desire  to  do  s-ood. 

I  think  I  have  had  some  patients  killed  and  I  know 
I  have  had  many  seriously  injured  by  this  unwarranted 
interferance  of  ignorant  outsiders.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
this  is  the  experience  of  every  physician.  The  3-ounger, 
the  newer  to  the  community,  or  the  more  timid  3'ou  are, 
the  more  trouble  you  will  have  from  this  source. 

As  the  doctor  grows  older  and  especially  if  he  de- 
velops a  little  bull  dog  courage  as  he  goes  along  and 
gets  a  reputation  for  mercilessly  handling  those  who 
change  his  treatment,  the  less  trouble  he  will  have. 

My  first  practice  had  many  hardships.  The  coun- 
try was  new,  and  what  settlements  there  were  had  been 
broken  up  during  the  war,  the  people  driven  out  and  the 
houses  and  farms  burned.  Immigrants  were  coming  in 
in  great  numbers.  I  waited  on  them  in  wagons,  tents, 
under  sheds  and  in  stables.  I  would  occasionally  find 
three  or  four  in  one  bed  all  sick,  and  when  they  were 
stirred  up  there  was  generally  an  odor  strongly  suggest- 
ive of  a  saddle  blanket  full  of  wet  cats. 

I  had  an  unlimited  range  of  territor}'.  Sometimes 
in  going  or  coming  on  my  long  journeys  at  night  I  would 


2o8  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

get  lost  on  the  prairie.  This  is  easily  done  on  a  dark 
night,  more  especially  if  you  have  a  young,  green  horse 
which  does  not  know  the  way  home.  Horses  are  like 
men — some  have  large  brains  and  good  judgment; 
others  have  small  brains  and  no  judgment  at  all.  It  is 
important  to  the  doctor  that  his  horse  shall  know  every 
thing  excepting  how  to  prescribe.  He  should  be  such 
a  horse  that — no  matter  how  far  you  may  be  from  home 
— you  can  drop  the  reins,  shut  your  eyes,  and  let  him 
go.  Ah,  how  many  a  sweet  mile  I  have  slept  when  re- 
turning home  at  night,  sleepy,  tired  and  travel  worn,  on 
the  back  of  my  dear  old  "  Tom. "  I  used  to  say  that 
"  Tom,"  could  "cipher  to  the  single  rule  of  three.''  He 
could  come  as  near  to  it  as  any  horse  I  ever  knew.  But 
if  your  horse  be  young  and  ignorant  you  may  get  lost  in 
spite  of  3'ourself. 

When  the  prairie  fires  come  and  the  atmosphere 
gets  murky  it  is  very  hard  sometimes  to  make  out 
ground  with  which  you  are  ordinarily  perfectly  familiar. 
These  fires  were  a  terror  to  the  new  comer.  With  prai- 
rie, unlimited  prairie,  all  around  for  miles,  with  high 
grass,  dead  and  dry  as  tinder,  the  farms,  crops  and  hous- 
es unprotected,  well  may  the  frontiersman  be  afraid. 
Men  and  women  all  learned  to  be  exceedingly  shrewd  in 
regard  to  fires,  as  well  as  to  man}^  other  things  ;  for  up- 
on their  knowledge  of  their  situation,  their  surroundings, 
and  all  things  that  threatened  them,  often  depended 
their  safety.     Here  is  no  uncommon   case  in  those  days: 

The  father  is  away  from  home.  The  family  is  sit- 
ting, perhaps,  at  dinner.     A  little  boy  comes  in  and  says: 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued.  209 

"  Mamma,  I  see  smoke  over  yonder." 

"  Over  where  ?"  asks  the  mother. 

"  Why,  over  torge  the  creek." 

The  mother  rises  and  goes  to  the  door,  puts  the 
thumb  side  of  her  hand  over  her  brow,  and  strains  her 
eyes  "  torge  the  creek."  She  goes  back,  uneasily  fin- 
ishes the  meal,  and  then  looks  again.  The  smoke  hangs 
along  the  edges  of  the  timber  and  the  atmosphere  looks 
hazy.  Glancing  up  at  the  sun  she  notices  that  it  is  red 
and  the  outline  is  sharp  and  clear  cut.  Gazing  toward 
the  creek  again  she  sees  a  deer  loping  gently  toward  the 
farm.  He  stops  at  the  corner  of  the  field,  looks  back 
over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of  the  smoke,  then 
passes  on  across  the  prairie.  Then  the  mother  hears  a 
bell. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  that's  our  cow  bell  and  there 
comes  all  the  cattle,  old  "  pink  "  with  the  bell  on  in  the 
lead.     Yes,  there  must  be  a  fire  comin'." 

Then  cautioning  the  younger  children  to  stay  at 
the  house,  and  taking  the  larger  girls  and  boys  with 
her,  she  seizes  a  burning  stick  from  the  old  fashioned 
fireplace  and  starts  for  the  back  of  the  field.  When  she 
ascends  the  ridge  at  the  back  of  the  field  she  sees  more 
smoke,  and  an  occasional  red  tongue  leaping  up  in  the 
river  bottom  a  mile  or  two  awa}'.  Now  she  knows 
there  is  fire,  and  she  begins  the  task  of  "  back  firing  "  so 
as  to  save  the  farm.  She  takes  the  little  path  that  leads 
around  the  field  as  her  line  of  defence  and  begins. 
With  the  children  gathered  around  her  she  gives  instruc- 
tions.    She  is  the  captain  who  is  to  conduct  this  battle. 


2IO  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

and  her  orders  must  be  obeyed.  The  children  are 
armed  with  bushes  or  with  old  sacks  tied  on  sticks  and 
dipped  in  a  bucket  of  water  which  has  been  brought. 
She  sets  the  first  fire  and  orders  the  children  to  whip 
out  the  fire  on  the  side  next  the  farm  and  not  let  it  cross 
the  path.  When  one  place  is  made  secure  she  passes  to 
another,  her  faithful  lieutenants  following  closely  so  as 
to  be  read}'  to  execute  her  orders.  In  this  way  she 
passes  from  spot  to  spot,  always  securing  one  point 
before  beginning  another.  The  air  becomes  rarified 
from  the  heat  and  the  wind  rushes  in  to  fill  the  vacuum. 

"I  wonder  what  makes  the  wind  alPys  rise  when 
you're  fightin'  fire?''  says  one  of  the  bo3-s,  who  knows 
nothing  of  rarified  air  and  a  vacuum,  and  who,  there- 
fore, looks  upon  the  conduct  of  the  wind  in  such  a  case 
as  being  purely  a  piece  of  reprehensible  perversity,  for 
which  there  is  no  excuse. 

"  You  keep  at  work  and  never  mind  the  wind," 
sa3'S  the  captain  mother,  who  is  growing  anxious,  for 
another  boy  who  has  been  sent  up  on  the  hill  to  note 
the  progress  of  fire  has  reported  that  "  it's  risin'  the 
ridge.  Mamma,  you'd  better  hurry." 

The  smoke  thickens,  the  air  grows  more  murky 
and  the  sun  is  now  almost  hidden.  Occasionally  a  blade 
of  burning  grass  jumps  the  path  and  sets  the  grass  afire 
on  the  side  next  the  field.  Then  all  the  children  leave 
their  places  and  fl}^  to  that  one  spot  until  this  nucleus  is 
extinguished.  Once  in  a  while  a  3'oungster  falls  back 
from  his  work  and  with  flushed  face  and  protruding  eyes 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continukd.  211 

breathes  hard   for   a   few  seconds.      He   has   swallowed 
smoke   and  become  strangled. 

Now  comes  a  sound  as   of    cracking  whips,  and  the 
red  tongues  of  the  destroyer  are  seen  "  risin'  the  hill." 
Below  this  cracking  sound,  there  is  a  low,  dull  roar  as  of 
rushing   water,  or    low,   distant    thunder.     The    captain 
mother  now  directs  each  child  to  take  a  piece  of  fire  and 
run   along  the   path  and   fire    at    regular  intervals  and 
fight  it  for  him  or  herself.     She  moves  rapidly  from  one 
to  another  and  helps  where  she  is  most  needed.     Some 
fire  jumps  the  path  and  quickly  takes  hold  upon  the  dry 
fence  which  is  near  at  one  point.     All  hands  rush  to  the 
spot,  a  panel  is  thrown  down   and  the  fire  quickly  extin- 
guished.    They  now  reach   the   corner  of    the  field  and 
the  danger  is  almost  passed.     The  main  body  of  the  fire 
which  has  passed  the  summit  of    the  ridge,  gathering 
force  from  the   rising  wind,  comes  thundering  down  on 
them  like  an  army   with    banners.      It  shrieks  and  roars 
and  leaps  in  the  air,  like   a  million   devouring  demons, 
and  sometimes  jumps   twenty   or    thirty  feet  and  takes 
hold  in  a  new  place.     The  "  back   firing  "  was  all  done 
when  the  corner  of  the  field  was  reached,  but  they  must 
now  "  side  fire  ''  down  the  other  side  of  the  field.     This 
is  not  so  hard,  for  the  destroyer  does  not  come  at  them 
directly  in  front.     He  is  passing  and  they  "  take  him  by 
the  flank  "   as  he  goes   by.     The  captain  with  her  tired 
little  band  well  in  hand  now  pass  rapidly  down  the  last 
side  and  fires  and  whips   as   before.     The  main   body  of 
the  enem}^  comes    sweeping    down   and    picks    up  their 
little  "  side  fire,"  appropriates  and  makes    it    a    part    of 


212  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

itself,  and  then  rushes  madly  on  to  the  timber  along  the 
little  branch  below  the  field.  Here  its  headway  is  so 
great  that  it  rushes  into  the  woods,  licking  up  the  dry 
leaves  and  all  inflammable  things,  even  climbing  the 
dead  trees  to  their  very  tops  and  sopping  the  lichen  from 
their  aged  trunks.  These  old  trees  will  burn  far  into 
the  night  and  light  up  the  heavens  all  around — standing 
as  a  monument  to  the  heroic  captain  mother  and  her 
gallant  little  band. 

The  mother  now  gathers  her  forces  and  goes  back 
over  the  ground  and  carefully  inspects  every  doubtful 
point.  Then  going  home,  with  flushed  face,  and  bare, 
red  arms,  she  gets  supper,  while  the  tired  children  fall 
asleep  here  and  there  on  the  floor.  They  are  awakened 
to  eat  and  then  to  go  to  bed,  while  this  splendid  mother 
takes  to  her  breast  and  suckles  one  of  the  future  heroes 
of  the  Great  Republic. 

Oh,  such  a  woman  as  that  is  worthy  to  be  called 
mother.  At  the  breasts  of  such  as  these  have  been 
nursed  the  greatest  men  that  this  or  any  other  country 
has  ever  known. 

AVhen  the  father  returns  he  hears  the  story,  and 
then  looking  around  at  his  wife  with  pride  in  his  eye, 
says  : 

"  Well,  old  woman,  I  guess  Til  have  to  bu}-  you  a 
new  calico  dress." 

This  was  high  praise,  indeed;  for  a  calico  dress 
cost  a  whole  dollar. 

If   a  modern   belle   were  to  do  such  a  heroic    deed 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued.  213 

there  is  no  telling  the  reward  she  would  receive  and  the 
newspapers  would  be  filled  with  her  praise. 

By  the  way,  when  I  have  seen  the  modern  belle  go 
up  the  street  clothed  in  modern  logger}',  walking  with 
wrist  drop,  high  heeled  shoes  and  the  "  Kangaroo  dip  " 
and  leading  a  little  dog  by  a  long  ribbon,  I  have  often 
contrasted  her  with  the  heroic  border  mother  whose  her- 
oism I  have  so  feebly  described.  I  have  wondered  at 
such  times  what  the  modern  belle  is  good  for.  I  can 
think  of  but  one  thing.  She  is  certainly  intended  for  the 
mother  of  the  dude. 

Chesterfield  said, 

"  It  takes  three  generations  to  make  a  gentleman." 

I  don't  know  how  many  it  takes  to  make  a  dude, 
but,  judging  from  his  general  unfitness  for  all  things  use- 
ful I  am  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  generations 
have  about  run  out  when  the  dude  is  made. 

But  I  digress.  I  started  out  to  tell  about  getting 
lost  on  the  prairie.  If  you  travel  through  the  timber  you 
have  your  points  which  will  prevent  your  losing  your- 
self. But  not  so  of  the  prairie.  Here  is  a  great,  wide 
waste  of  prairie,  covered  with  grass,  and  you  have  trav- 
eled over  it  during  the  summer  tiijie  and  have  educated 
your  sense  of  sight  to  a  certain  perspective  from  certain 
positions.  There  is  a  house  in  the  distance  which,  when 
seen  with  a  different  coloring  of  the  grass  of  the  low  and 
high  lands,  looks  to  be  two  miles  away.  When  this 
grass  is  burned  you  have  nothing  but  a  continuous, 
black  foreground  between  you  and  thehouse  which  jerks 
the  house  up  apparently  to  within  a  half  mile.     If  you 


214  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

strike  this  point  just  at  dark  3'ou  will  be  deceived.  So 
are  the  changes  everywhere.  But  to  come  upon  these 
changes  when  they  are  taking  place — when  a  part  of  the 
prairie  is  burned  and  a  part  unburned,  with  a  wall  of  fire 
between  and  smoke  over-head  and  the  uncertain  light 
that  comes  with  sunset  and  a  glowing  western  sky,  it 
will  deceive  almost  anyone,  excepting  the  man  who  is 
an  experienced  woodsman,  hunter  or  trapper. 

I  have  met  these  fires  in  coming  home  after  a  long 
journey,  and  I  must  say  that,  notwithstanding  the  seem- 
ing peril  to  which  one  is  exposed  and  the  annoyance  con- 
sequent upon  being  lost,  it  was  worth  while  to  see  the 
pictures  I  have  seen.  I  have  seen  the  line  of  fire  extend- 
ing for  miles.  The  grass  was  damp  and  burning  slowl}'. 
The  atmosphere  was  damp  and  the  smoke  hung  low. 
The  sun  was  just  setting  and  the  whole  western  sky  was 
aflame  with  crimson.  Between  the  fire  and  the  red  sky 
was  the  timber  and  the  smoke  hung  in  dark  grey 
wreaths  and  festoons  over  all.  Here  I  have  seen  the 
mirage.  The  fire  seemed  to  be  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
sea  of  water — the  trees  looked  like  mountains  and  pal- 
aces on  the  further  shore;  men  and  living  things  moved 
about  upon  the  face  of  the  water.  I  have  seen  the  out- 
lines of  the  most  beautiful  palaces  on  this  other  shore 
and  great  ships  move  from  point  to  point  in  the  sea,  and 
small  boats  dart  here  and  there,  and  men  would  get  up 
and  walk  and  dance  on  the  crest  of  the  fiery  billows. 

As  the  sun  would  sink  a  little  further  and  the  sky 
change  a  little  in  coloring  the  whole  scene  would  change 
and  I  would  get   an  entirely  new  view  with   an  infinite 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 


215 


variety  and  beauty  of  coloring.  The  lire  is  in  my  front, 
but  I  can  not  pass  it,  so  I  am  forced  to  the  necessity  of 
heading  it  off — going  around  it,  in  fact.  This  I  under- 
take to  do.  With  the  changes  constantly  taking  place 
in  the  picture  before  me  I  soon  lose  my  bearings.  I 
went  out  in  the  morning  over  a  country  with  which  my 
eyes  were  perfectly  familiar  and  return  at  night  with  a 
fairy  land  in  front  of  me  and  not  a  single  object  in  any 
direction  which  I  recognize  as  ever  having  seen  before. 

I  m  o  v  e 
on,  keep- 
ing my 
eyes  fixed 
on  the 
mirage  to 
watch  the 
wonder 
ful  trans- 
forma 
tions  tak- 
ing place 
under  the 
chang  ing 
I  finally  head  the 


I  SAW  MEN  GET  UP  AND 
WALK  ON  THE  FI- 
ERY BILLOWS. 

chiaroscuro  of  lights  and  shadows 
fire  off  and  put  it  at  my  back,  but  I  am  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land.  Darkness  has  set  in  and  I  am  utterly  and 
hopelessly  lost.  I  desire  to  go  in  a  certain  direction, 
but  my  faithful  horse,  when  given  his  head,  presses  in 
another.  While  I  have  more  faith  in  him  than  I  have 
in  myself,  I   zvill  press   him  in  the  direction  that  I  think 


2i6  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

my  home  is.  I  look  at  the  stars.  There  is  the  north 
star  directly  in  the  south,  with  the  unerring  great  clip- 
per pointing  directly  to  it.  The  seven  stars  and  all  the 
prominent  celestial  land  marks  are  turned  entirely 
around.  I  feel  dizzy,  confused  and  foolish.  While  I 
am  under  the  pressure  of  a  sense  of  having  been  picked 
up  bodily  and  transferred  to  another  planet,  something 
jumps  up  and  goes  away  with  a  rushing  sound  just  in 
front  of  me.  It  is  a  deer  or  some  other  wild  animal. 
Just  here  my  horse  comes  to  a  dead  halt  and  refuses  to 
move.  I  see  something  in  front  which  looks  like  a 
great  mountain,  which  suddenl}-  loses  its  shape  and 
there  is  a  gulf.  I  dismount  and  feel  around  in  the  dark- 
ness to  see  why  my  faithful  horse  has  stopped.  I  find  a 
deep  gully  in  front  of  me — a  "  wash  out  "  with  sides  so 
steep  and  bottom  so  deep  that  it  is  impassable.  I  stand 
beside  my  horse  and  think  I  will  yell  and  see  if  I  can  get 
an  answer  from  some  one — from  some  other  person 
who  IS  lost,  perhaps.  A  sound  from  any  human  being 
would  be  welcome  now.  I  hear  a  scream  which  sounds 
something  like  a  boy  hallooing.  I  am  about  to  answer, 
when  I  am  saved  the  trouble,  for  there  comes  another 
yell  very  much  like  the  first  but  from  a  different  direction. 
I  know  now  that  it  is  wolves. 

I  mount  again  and  give  my  dear  old  "  Tom  "  his 
head  and  say  "go  home  Tom."  The  faithful  horse 
turns  square  around  and  starts  off  at  a  lively  pace  just  in 
the  opposite  direction  from  home,  1  think.  But  I  am 
lost  and  I  must  now  trust  to  the  instinct  of  my  horse. 
We  move  on.      Tlie  old  horse  stretches  out  his  neck  and 


Ups  and  Downs,  Continued.  217 

groans  and  snorts  and  quickens  his  pace.  He  goes  as  if 
he  knows  where  he  is  going.  We  soon  come  into  a 
a  road;  then  we  strike  timber  and  then  come  to  the 
creek.  This  looks  a  little  like  a  creek  that  runs  close  to 
my  home,  but  I  approach  and  cross  it  from  the  wrong 
side.  Coming  out  on  the  prairie  on  the  other  side  I  see 
a  lio:ht  which  indicates  a  human  habitation.  I  will  turn 
off  and  go  to  that  light  and  inquire  the  way.  My  horse 
turns  toward  the  light  without  suggestion  or  motion 
from  me.  I  ride  up  to  the  fence  and  note  that  this  man 
has  a  house,  barn  and  surroundings  much  like  my  own. 
In  fact  I  would  think  they  were  mine,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  fact  that  the  house  and  barn  face  north  and  mine 
faces  south.  I  approach  it  from  the  wrong  direction 
and  I  know  it  is  not  my  house.  I  "  hello  ''  once  or  twice, 
a  woman   opens  the  door    and    asks  what  is  wanted. 

There  is  a  strange  familiarity  about  that  voice.  I 
have  heard  it  before  but  to  save  my  life  I  can  not  tell 
whose  it  is.  (When  you  are  lost  you  do  not  even  rec- 
ognize the  voices  of  your  nearest  friends).  I  ask  who 
lives  there.     The  voice  says  : 

**  Get  down  and  come  in.  I  should  think  you 
would  be  too  tired  to  be  playing  tricks  after  such  a  long 
ride." 

The  voice  is  strangely  like  that  of  my  wife's  and 
yet  she  can  not  be  here  occupying  the  house  of  some 
one  else. 

I  begin  to  protest  when  she  says : 

"  Oh,  get  down  and  come  in,  you  goose  ;  don't  3'ou 
know  3'our  own  house  ?" 


2i8  Ups  and  Downs,  Continued. 

I  alight,  hitch  ''  Tom  "  and  go  to  the  door.  Yes, 
here  is  my  wife  and  here  are  my  babies!  "There's 
pa!''  they  all  say  in  one  breath,  and  rush  for  the  door. 
I  look  back  toward  the  gate  and  find  that  the  earth  has 
swung  around  just  one  hundred  and  eighty  degrees 
since  I  got  to  the  door. 

The  faithful  animal  is  stabled  and  fed.  The  coffee 
pot  is  put  on  and  fresh  coffee  is  made;  the  table  is  un- 
covered and  my  waiting  supper  is  exposed.  I  sit  down 
and  eat  and  tell  about  the  mirage  and  about  being  lost. 
Then  a  book  is  taken  from  the  "book  shelf,"  and  I  read 
aloud  to  my  dear  ones.  Little  eyelids  begin  to  droop 
and  little  heads  begin  to  nod. 

The  reading  is  finished  and  then  the  dear  wife  gets 
another  book — "the  Book  of  Books  ''  and  carefully  open- 
ing saj^s : — 

"  We  read  the  seventh  chapter  of  Mark  last  night. 
AVe  will  read  the  eighth  to-night." 

Then  tired  heads  are  laid  upon  waiting,  downy  pil- 
lows and  the  world  and  the  mirage  and  all  are  shut  out 
until  morning. 

When  I  have  been  lost  in  this  way  how  I  have  pit- 
ied my  city  brother  who  was  at  that  moment  perhaps, 
riding  up  Fifth  Avenue  in  his  coupe.  He  had  such  a 
poor  chance  to  "  come  out  strong  "  and  show  himself  a 
man. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS. 


WANTED  TO  BE  A  MILI^IONAIRE — A  TRIP  TO  COLORADO — 
THB  ••PHCENIX"  AND  THE  TREE  OYSTER — NATURAL  PHENOM- 
ENA— "THE  LIGHTNESS  OP  THE  ATM0SPHERE"^A  TENDER- 
FOOT's  failure — THE  GRANDEUR  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS — THE 
GOOD   OF    DESIRING   TO    DO    GOOD. 

T  is  to  be  fairly  presumed 
that  almost  every  human 
being  that  lives  has  at  some 
time  in  his  life  been  moved 
by  a  desire  to  do  good  to 
those  beneath  him,  if  such 
there  be.  Indeed  it  is  hard 
to  conceive  of  a  human  be- 
ing so  degraded  and  base 
and  so  bereft  of  all  feelincr 
that  he  is  not  moved  at  some 
time  in  his  life  to  pity  the 
miserable  condition  of  others. 

Doctors  are  the  most  benevolent  people.  The  doc- 
tors in  the  United  States  do  more  charity  than  all  the 
other  people  combined.  This  seems  like  a  strong  state- 
ment, but  it  is  nevertheless  true.  You  may  take  any 
cit}',  town  or  village  in  the  United  States,  and  make  as 
accurate  a  calculation  as  you  can  of    the  money  expend- 


220  Benevoi^ent  Designs.- 

ed  for  the  benejfit  of  the  poor  by  all  the  people,  banks, 
corporations  and  charitable  institutions  of  the  place  and 
I  will  oret  a  fair  statement  of  the  charitable  work  done 
by  all  the  physicians  of  that  town,  figured  by  a  reason- 
able schedule  of  fees,  and  I  will  show  you  that  the  doctors 
do  more  charity  than  all  the  balance  of  the  city.  Some 
doctors  are  no  more  charitable  than  other  people,  but 
most  of  them  are.  A  grocer  can  refuse  food  on  credit, 
a  clothier  may  refuse  clothing  and  so  may  all  men  in 
any  branch  of  business,  but  such  are  the  pressing  needs 
of  the  poor  when  they  call  upon  us  that  we  must  give 
our  services.  "  Public  opinion  ''  (which  is  another  name 
for  the  concurrence  of  the  mob)  may  overlook  the  action 
of  the  grocer  and  the  clothier  but  it  will  not  do  it  in  the 
case  of  the  doctor  who  refuses  his  services  when  the 
poor  body  is  racked  with  pain. 

I  started  out  to  say  that  doctors  are  sometimes 
stricken  with  fits  of  benevolence.  I  had  such  an  attack 
once  myself.  It  was  during  the  "  carbonate  silver  "  ex- 
citement at  Leadville,  Colorado,  in  1879.  I  had  prac- 
ticed medicine  about  fourteen  years  then  without  ever 
having  a  thought  of  growing  rich.  The  fact  is,  I  felt 
that,  in  the  presence  of  the  responsibilities  with  which  I 
was  daily  sufrounded,  to  think  of  making  money  was 
repi  ehensible  in  the  very  highest  degree,  if  not  ungen- 
tlemanly. 

I  do  not  know  why,  but  just  about  the  time  of  this 
silver  excitement  I  was  stricken  with  a  desire  to  be 
rich. 


Benevoi,ent  Designs,  221 

"  Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge, 
Nor  for  a  train  attendant, 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 
Of  being  independent." 

I  desired  to  do  good  to  others,  and  I  confess  to  the 
weakness  of  desiring  to  be  rich  for  the  sake  of  doing 
good  to  myself  and  to  mine.  It  was  the  first  impulse  of 
the  kind,  so  far  as  it  referred  to  self,  that  I  remember  to 
have  ever  had,  and  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  God 
seems  to  have  created  some  people  poor  in  order  that 
they  might  illustrate  the  higher  virtues  under  difficul- 
ties, and  the  writer  has  settled  down  to  the  conviction 
that  the  Lord  has  been  using  him  all  this  time  for  a  wood 
cut  and  is  content. 

However,  associated  with  a  desire  to  do  something 
for  self  in  this  instance  was  the  higher  and  nobler  one  to 
help  the  helpless.  There  was  a  little  orphan  school  for 
girls  in  my  state  which  I  had  a  great  and  burning  desire 
to  endow.  I  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to  Colorado 
and  making  a  million  dollars.  I  wanted  just  one  million. 
Now  some  people  would  have  wanted  two  millions,  but  I 
was  never  a  hog  about  such  things.  I  made  up  my  mind 
and  made  a  vow  that  if  I  could  make  a  million  I  would 
give  two  hundred  thousand  of  it  to  the  orphan  school. 

Such  was  the  excitement  in  regard  to  the  news  just 
at  that  time  that  men  actually  went  out  there  expecting 
to  shovel  up  the  money  in  a  grain  scoop.  I  was  not  so 
foolish  as  that.  I  would  have  been  content  to  use  a 
common  spade. 

I  went. 

As  I  passed  up  the  Missouri  Pacific  R.  R.  my  heart 


222  Benevolent  Designs. 

was  filled  to  overflowing  with  two  emotions  : — with  sor- 
row at  leaving  my  wife  and  babies,  and  joy  at  the  thought 
of  growing  rich  and  being  able  to  do  good.  As  I  passed 
through  Kansas  City  I  looked  over  toward  Camden 
Point,  where  the  little  orphan  school  was  located,  and 
chuckled  to  myself  to  think  what  a  surprise  I  had  ir. 
store  for  the  trustees  of  that  school.  I  was  so  full  of  it 
that  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  designs  a  secret.  But  I 
did.  I  started  out  with  the  idea  that  my  left  hand 
should  not  know  what  my  right  hand  was  doing,  and  I 
determined  to  stick  to  it,  excepting  that  I  intended  that 
both  hands  should  industriously  shovel  "  silver  carbon- 
ates "  (with  a  spade),  and  when  the  million  was  ob- 
tained I  would  come  home  and  make  the  orphans  glad, 
and  their  mothers  in  heaven  would  love  and  bless  me. 

Our  train  moved  on  toward  the  great  plains.  As 
we  passed  through  western  Kansas  people  continued  to 
get  on  and  off  the  train  at  the  stations  less  frequently  as 
the  stations  were  farther  apart  and  the  country  more 
sparsely  settled.  Finally  we  passed  the  last  station  and 
entered  upon  the  "  plains,"  then  people  ceased  to  get  on 
and  off.  There  were  no  more  towns  for  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  and  all  the  people  that  were  on  the  train 
were  going  across  the  plains.  Then  wq  began  to  be  so- 
ciable and  to  talk,  to  ask  each  other  where  we  were 
from,  where  we  were  going  and  what  we  intended  doing 
when  we  got  there  ;  then  we  would  mtroduce  our  new 
made  friends  to  other  friends  and  offer  each  other  cigars 
and  lunch.  As  we  proceeded,  we  began  to  gather  in 
groups   and  tell  stories.     The  American  is  a  great  story 


Bknkvolknt  Designs.  223 

teller.     He    loves   to   tell    his     best    story    and    receive 
applause  and  hear  a  new  one  from  his  new  acquaintance 

In  my  corner  of  the  car  we  had  an  excellent  group 
of  men  with  one  exception.  This  was  a  young  man 
with  a  face  like  a  displaced  interrogation  point  and  who 
seemed  to  have  failed  in  being  a  dude  in  about  one 
point — the  clothes.  His  particular  forte  lay  in  his  abil- 
ity to  spoil  a  story  that  some  one  else  was  telling.  He 
would  interrupt  you  right  in  the  middle  of  the  story  or 
just  before  the  "  point  "  was  reached  and  call  in  question 
your  pronunciation  of  a  word,  your  statement  as  to  the 
population  of  a  city,  or  anything,  and  by  the  time  you 
got  through  arguing  with  him  about  it,  you  would  lose 
the  thread  of  your  story,  ever3'body  would  be  mad  and 
the  story  spoiled.  We  nicknamed  him  the  "  Phcenix," 
because,  after  being  demolished  and  almost  annihilated, 
he  would  rise  again.  We  handled  him  most  unmerci- 
fully several  times  but  it  did  not  discourage  him.  He 
was  sure  to  come  to  the  front  just  at  a  time  when  he 
could  do  the  most  mischief.  The  fellow  seemed  to  have 
been  borne  inal  apropos.  He  had  no  sense  of  propriety, 
whatever. 

Away  out  in  the  desert  about  the  Kansas  and  Col- 
orado line  is  a  large  hotel  called  Lakin.  This  is  the 
half  way  house  in  the  desert,  and  is  the  place  provided 
by  the  railroad  company  where  the  passengers  take  the 
one  meal  after  leaving  the  civilization  of  Kansas  and  be- 
fore reaching  the  civilization  of  Colorado.  Just  before 
reaching  the  place  where  the  train  stopped  for  supper, 
the  "  Phcenix  "  ruined  one  of   my  best  stories  by  his  un- 


224  Benevolent  Designs. 

warranted  interference.  I  was  not  mad,  for  I  never  per- 
mit myself  to  be  found  in  such  a  condition  as  that,  but  1 
was  vexed  and  could  have  throttled  him. 

I  laid  a  deep  scheme  for  revenge. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  train  I  called  four  or  five 
you'ng  men  to  me  and  said  : 

"  I  have  a  plan  laid  for  the  final  demolition  of  the 
'  Phoenix.'  We  must  watch  him  until  he  is  seated  at 
the  table  and  then  all  sit  at  the  same  table.  I  want  you 
men  to  listen  to  what  I  shall  say  and,  no  matter  how  ab- 
surd it  may  be,  agree  with  rhe.  Do  not  only  agree  with 
me  but  vehemently  insist  that  what  I  say  is  true." 

This  was  readily  agreed  to. 

We  went  in  and  found  the  "  Phoenix  ''  sitting  at  the 
largest  table  with  an  old  lady  near  him.  I  had  seen 
this  old  lady  on  the  train.  She  \/as  from  Ohio,  and  was 
o^oinfi:  to  visit  her  married  dauo^hter  in  Colorado.  She 
had  the  regulation  number  of  boxes  and  bundles  with 
which  she  worked  incessantly  on  the  car.  She  was  con- 
stantly untying  or  tying  something  and  taking  articles 
out  of  one  bundle  and  stuffing  them  into  another.  She 
had  two  upper  front  teeth  out  and  wore  the  inevitable 
bandana  around  her  head.  As  we  sat  down  to  supper  I 
remarked : 

"This  is  a  pretty  good  supper  for  an  out  of  the  way 
place  like  this.     Now  if  we   just  had  some  oysters  '' — ■ 

"Oysters!"  said  the  '  Phoenix,'  "  I  wouldn't  give  a 
penny  a  basket  for  oysters  out  here." 

"Why  not.?"  I  asked. 

"  Because,"  said  he,  "  they  are  not  fit  to  eat  when 


Benevolent  Designs.  225 

they  are  shipped  this  far.  They  develop  a  nasty,  fishy 
taste.  Now,  at  Washington  and  Bahimore,  where  I 
live,  you  can  get  them  right  fresh  out  of  the  bay  " — 

"Hold  on,  young  man,  hold  on!"  I  exclaimed. 
"  Now,  don't  please." 

"  What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  looking  up  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  You  don't  pretend  to  tell  us  that  oysters  come 
out  of  the  water,  do  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Where  should  they  come 
from  ?" 

"  Now,  please  don't,  young  man,"  I  continued,  while 
I  waved  him  away  with  my  hand. 

"  Now  don't  take  us  for  a  flock  of  innocent  pigeons. 
I  have  heard  some  pretty  tough  ones,  but  this  is  too 
much.  I  don't  know  how  these  other  people  feel,  but 
for  my  part  I  don't  like  to  be  taken  for  a  fool." 

"  Well,  if  they  don't  come  out  of  water,  perhaps  you 
can  tell  where  they  do  come  from,"  said  he,  winking 
across  the  table  at  a  Detroit  man. 

"  Why,  I  thought  the  babies  knew  they  grew  on 
trees,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,  what  are  you  givin'  us  ?"  said  he. 

"  Why,  of  course  they  grow  on  trees,  of  course,  of 
course,  why  certainly,"  said  everybody,  except  the  old 
lady  who  kept  quiet,  but  seemed  to  be  watching  me  out 
of  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

The  "  Phoenix"  began  to  look  red  in  the  face. 

"  Young  man,"  I  began,  "it  is  pretty  rough  on  any 
man  to  be  taken  for  a  fool,  but  since  you  have  seen  fit  to 


226  Benevolent  DesigNvS. 

play  this  whole  company  for  fools  I  suppose  that  I  will 
have  to  bear  my  part  of  it.  But  I  can't  let  your  bald- 
faced  assertion  that  oysters  live  in  the  water  go  without 
contradiction.  Let  me  remind  you  that  Marshall  Hall 
demonstrated  by  a  series  of  experiments  years  ago  that 
warm  blooded  animals  can  not  live  under  the  water  over 
four  minutes,  and  everybody  knows  that  the  oyster  is  a 
warm  blooded  animal.  But,  since  you  persist  in  this  fla- 
grant assault  upon  well  known  facts,  let  me  say  that  Pet- 
tis County,  Missouri,  where  I  live,  is  the  center  of  the 
oyster  producing  region  of  the  world  ;  I  know  more  than 
one  man  in  my  county  who  produces  more  oysters  than 
the  whole  state  of  Maryland  and  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia put  together. 

"  We  have  Maj.  G.,  Capt.  S.,  and  Dr.  T.  who  have 
large  oyster  orchards." 

"  Why  yes,  certainly,  cert-^inly,  of  course,  I  know 
that,"  said  everybody  in  chorus  and  repeated  it  so  fast 
that  the  "Phcenix"  couldn't  get  in  a  word. 

"  I've  seen  all  those  brands  on  the  oyster  barrels  up 
in  Detroit,"  said  my  Michigan  man;  and  then  every- 
body chimed  in  and  asserted  the  same  thing  as  to  his 
town.  The  "  Phoenix  "  was  confused  and  mad;  for  he 
evidently  saw  a  conspiracy  in  our  concert  of  action.  He 
turned  red,  spotted  and  green  by  turns.  When  he 
would  attempt  to  speak  the  chorus  would  break  out 
anew  and  drown  him  out.  He  looked  around  with  a 
maddened  and  defeated  look  on  his  face,  seized  his  cup 
of  coffee  and  gulped  it  at  three  swallows  and  rising 
knocked  his  chair  over  and  went   to  the  door,  paid  his 


BENEVOLENT  Designs. 


227 


"six  bits,"  and  incontinently  bolted  for  the  waiting  train. 

We  all  laughed  and  enjoyed  his  discomfiture  and  the  old 

lady  looked  puzzled. 

A  jolly  young  German,  who  was  my   companion, 

thinking  to  continue  the  fun,  said  : 
"  Doctor,  do  oysters  sing  ?" 
"Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  "they  sing  beautifully.      I  don't 

know  of  any  better  and  more   delightful  way  in  which 

to  spend  an  afternoon   than   to  take  a  book  and  go  into 

M  a  j  .  G's 
oyster  or- 
chard and 
sit  down  un- 
der the  oys- 
ter trees  and 
hear  the 
03'sterssing. 
It  is  most 
soothing 
and  delight- 
ful when  the 
old    oysters 

"I  ALLERS  KNOWED   THAT   OYSTERS   GROWED  ON      S  i  U  g     the 

TREES."  young  ones 

to  sleep  just  as  darkness  comes  on." 

This  was  to  much  for  the  female  delegate  from 
Ohio.     She  broke  the  bonds  of  silence  at  last. 

"Well,  now,  do  tcll.^  /  alters  knowed  oysters 
growed  on  trees  bitt  I  7iever  tznoiocd  that  they  could  sijig 
before,^'' 


228  ■  Benevolent  Designs. 

This  was  too  much.  Everybody  roared  in  chorus. 
The  old  lady  knew  that  she  had  started  the  laug-hter, 
but  she  didn't  know  exactly  how  she  had  done  it.  She 
joined  in,  however,  and  looked  from  one  to  another  to 
"  catch  the  point,"  if  possible,  and  in  turning  her  head, 
she  spurted  her  bread  and  coffee  through  the  aperature, 
made  by  the  absent  frontal  incisors,  all  over  the  young 
man  from  Detroit. 

But  the  "  Phoenix  "  never  rose  again.  He  took  up 
a  lonely  position  in  one  corner  of  the  car  and  held  it  to 
the  end. 

We  approached  Canon  City  on  foot  from  the  rail- 
road station  at  daylight.  There  were  the  mountains 
looming  up  before  us  with  the  cleft  of  the  Grand  Canon, 
where  the  Arkansas  river  comes  out  of  the  mountains, 
plain  to  be  seen.  But  there  was  no  town;  we  couldn't 
see  a  single  house  although  there  was  a  level  valley  and 
not  an  object  intervening  between  us  and  the  Grand 
Canon.  We  went  a  little  further  and  saw  one  house 
which  seemed  to  be  trying  to  hide  itself  under  the  moun- 
tain. A  little  further  on  another  house  stepped  out 
from  behind  this  one,  and  then  two  liouses  stepped  out 
from  behind  these  two  and  four  from  behind  these  four 
and  so  forth.  In  a  few  minutes  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  midst  of  a  flourishino^  town  of  two  or  three  thousand 
inhabitants.  I  was  mystified.  I  couldn't  understand 
the  phenomenon  of  these  houses  walking  out  from  be- 
hind each  other  at  day  light,  so  determined  to  probe  the 
mystery  to  the  bottom. 

If  I  am  hunting  a  stray  horse  I  always  inquire  of    a 


Benevolent  Designs.  229 

bo}^  or  a  negro,  but  when  I  want  natural  phenomena  ex- 
plained I  look  for  a  "  prominent  citizen."  This  I  did. 
After  I  had  stated  what  I  had  seen,  and  asked  him  the 
reason  for  it,  he  thought  a  moment,  put  on  a  wise  look 
and  said,  slow!}' : 

"  Well,-I  dunno-o-o-oh.  It  is  generally-considered- 
here-e-c-to-bc-caused  by  the-ah-lightness  of  the  atmos- 
phere." 

At  the  point  where  we  stopped  the  first  night  we 
had  black  beef  and  blacker  sausage  for  supper,  both  be- 
ing strongly  tinctured  with  the  taste  of  the  sage  brush. 
I  called  a  Hibernian  who  waited  on  the  table  to  me  and 
asked: 

"  Pat,  what  makes  this  meat  so  black  and  gives  it 
this  peculiar  taste.?" 

"I  dunno,  sur,"  said  Pat,  while  he  winked  a  wink 
that  took  one  side  of  his  head  to  do  it,  "  unless  it  is,  sur, 
that  the}'  do  say  that  it  is  owin'  to  the  loitness  of  the 
atmosphere." 

We  traveled  up  the  Arkansas  river  two  days,  there 
being  fourteen  of  us  on  the  stage — sometimes  hanging 
on  to  the  clouds  by  our  eyebrows,  and  then  again  al- 
most in  the  "  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death."  We  had 
one  lady,  very  fat,  on  the  stage,  who  cried  all  the  way 
from  sheer  fright.  I  would  have  cried  but  I  was  so 
badly  scared  that  I  was  speechless  and  cryless.  My 
heart  was  in  my  throat  and  prevented  articulation.  An 
Irishman,  who  was  one  of  the  passengers,  declared, 

"  The  next  time  I  ride  over  these  mountains  Pll 
walk.'' 


230 


Benevolent  Designs. 


We  came  to  a  place  where  only  a  few  days  before 
two  horses  and  a  wagon  had  gone  over  a  precipice  sev- 
eral hundred  feet.  We  were  looking  down  into  this 
chasm  and  trying  to  see  the  wrecked  wagon  and  horses 
when  the  driver  stopped  and  said : 

"Here,  I  guess  you  folks  had  better  get  out  here." 
The  fat  woman  was  already  crying,  and   with   this 
she  began  to  yell  in  dead  earnest.     She  sat  on  the  back 


I  WENT  DOWN  IN  THE  MUD  AND  SHE  ON  TOP  OF  ME. 

seat  and  I  on  the  middle  one.  I  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  getting  out  first  at  stations  and  then  helping  her.  I 
got  out  here  as  soon  as  I  could,  for  I  could  tell  by  her 
shouts  that  she  was  close  upon  me.  Just  as  I  turned 
around  to  receive  her  she  jumped  right  on  to  my  stom- 
ach with  her  whole  weight — about  one  hundred  and 
seventy  pounds.      I  went  down   in    the   mud  and  she  on 


Benevolent  Designs.  231 

top  of  me,  of  course.  I  do  not  know  what  I  would  have 
done  if  there  hadn't  been  somebody  there  to  take  her  off, 
for  she  was  so  badly  scared  that  she  was  perfectly  help- 
less and  she  had  rendered  me  almost  as  helpless  as  her- 
self. 

Another  gentleman  and  I  got  under  her  arms  and 
almost  literally  carried  her  to  the  station — a  half  mile 
distant — where  the  stage  had  stopped.  I  was  almost  par- 
alyzed with  the  effort  to  carry  her  and  had  the  backache 
all  the  balance  of  the  day. 

When  we  arrived  at  Leadville  it  was  ten  o'clock  at 
night.  A  m.an  came  and  opened  the  stage  door  and 
looked  in  by  the  light  of  a  lantern.  She  made  one  des- 
perate spring,  yelled  "  Oh,  John,''  and  fell  on  his  neck. 
He  staggered  under  her  ponderous  weight  and  she 
swung  on.  They  went  staggering  and  whirlino-  off 
amongst  the  bushes  and  I  have  never  seen  her  since. 
If  he  gets  her  out  of  Leadville  I  feel  sure  that  he  will 
have  to  blindfold  her  and  back  her  down  the  mountains 
like  stock  men  load  unruly  horses  on  to  railroad  cars. 

There  was  house  room  enough  in  and  around  Lead- 
ville to  accommodate  five  thousand  people  and  there 
were  twenty  thousand  to  be  accommodated.  Such  a 
crowding  mass  of  humanit}-  I  never  saw  before  and  hope 
never  to  see  again.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
snow,  the  weather  was  too  cold  for  mining  except  where 
the  mines  were  already  in  operation,  and  nearly  every 
body  spent  their  time  in  walking  around  the  streets, 
herding  up  in  the  gambling  rooms  (which  were  open  on 
the  streets  and  furnished    the  only   free  accommodation 


232  Benevolent  Designs. 

in  town),  or  cutting  logs  and  building  huts  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  spring  mining. 

As  I  couldn't  go  to  spading  up  my  million  until  the 
snow  went  off  I  decided  to  practice  my  profession  and 
make  a  few  thousand  just  to  pay  expenses.  I  put  on 
my  best  clothes  (and  they  were  the  best  that  I  saw  in 
Colorado),  put  up  at  the  best  hotel  and  hung  out  my 
shingle.  I  stayed  there  one  month  and  never  received 
a  call. 

I  don't  know  why — couldn't  explain  it  then,  and 
can  not  now  unless  it  was  because  I  was  so  well  dressed 
that  people  thought  I  was  proud.  Men  came  to  me 
every  day  with  specimens  of  ore  and  desired  to  sell  me 
rich  mines,  but  no  one  came  to  have  his  wounds  healed. 
All  seemed  to  think  that  I  was  a  millionaire  who  had 
come  there  to  buy  up  all  of  the  good  mines  and  who 
was  disguising  his  real  object  under  the  pretense  of 
practicing  medicine.  There  was  no  use  to  protest.  It 
did  no  good.  It  had  gone  forth  that  I  was  a  Boston 
millionaire  (I  had  never  seen  Boston)  who  i-epresented  a 
syndicate  that  controlled  millions.  I  was  treated  with 
great  deference,  and  the  ore  continued  to  pour  in  on  me 
day  by  day;  but  no  one  wanted  me  as  a  doctor. 

I  would  look  at  the  specimens  and  the  assays  and 
ask  the  most  innocent  questions  about  them — for  I  didn't 
know  "  carbonate  "  from  "  horn  silver  " — and  they  would 
look  at  each  other  and  wink  as  much  as  to  say,  "  ain't 
he  a  sly  old  coon  ?     But  he  can't  fool  us. " 

I  tired  of  this  kind  of  thing  at  last  and  decided  to 
come  home      When  I  got  everythmg  on  the  stage  and 


Benevolent  Designs.  233 

myself  Into  it    I  called  the  hotel  clerk  to  bid    him   <]^ood 
bye,  and  said  to  him  : 

"  Charlie,  answer  me  a  question  ;  I've  been  here  a 
month  trying  to  get  something  to  do  in  my  profession. 
I  am  the  best  dressed  man  in  Colorado.  I  don't  think 
that  I  am  either  an  ignorant,  or  a  bad  looking  man.  I've 
seen  lop-eared,  ignorant,  "Jim  Crow  "  doctors  going 
around  here  as  busy  as  bees.  Now  tell  me  ;  what  is  it 
that  drove  people  from  me  as  a  physician  ?  Why  is  it 
that  I  couldn't  get  anything  to  do  ?" 

Charlie  put  his  hand  up  to  the  side  of  his  mouth, 
looked  mysterious  and  leaned  forward  and  whispered  in 
my  ear: 

"  I  don't  know,  doctor,  unless  it  is  on  account  of  the 
lightness  of  the  atmosphe7-e. " 

And  so  I  came  home. 

But  I  saw  the  grand  old  mountains  as  I  had  always 
longed  to  see  them.  The  grand,  gloomy  and  silent 
mountains  that  God  has  builded  as  witnesses  of  the 
great  throes  and  upheavals  through  which  this  earth 
has  passed  in  days  gone  by.  I  looked  upon  these  grand 
old  mountains  "  on  whose  summits  the  clouds  gather  of 
their  own  accord  even  in  the  brightest  day.  There  I  saw 
the  great  spirit  x)f  the  storm,  after  noontide,  go  and  take 
his  nap  in  his  pavilion  of  darkness  and  of  clouds.  I  saw 
him  aroused  at  midnight  as  a  giant  refreshed  by  slumber, 
and  cover  the  heavens  with  darkness  and  gloom ;  I  saw 
him  awake  the  tempest,  let  loose  the  red  lightning  that 
ran  along  the  mountain  tops  for  a  thousand  miles  swift- 
er than  an  eagle's  flight    in    the  heavens.     Then  I  saw 


234 


Benevolent  Designs. 


them  stand  up  and  dance  like  angels  of  light  in  the 
clouds  to  the  music  of  that  grand  organ  of  nature,  whose 
keys  seemed  to  have  been  touched  by  the  fin'^er  of  Di- 
vinity in  the  hall  of  eternity  that  responded  in  notes  of 
thunder  that  resounded  through  the  universe.  Then  I 
saw  the  darkness  drift  away  beyond  the  horizon  and  the 
morn  get  up  from  her  saffron  bed  like  a  a  queen,  put  on 
her  robes  of  light,  come  forth   from   her   palace    in  the 

sun  and 
stand  t  i  p- 
toe  on  the 
mistymoun- 
t  a  in  top, 
a  n  d  niofht 
fled  before 
her  glorious 
face  to  his 
bed  cham 
ber  at  the 
pole.'' 

I  stood  at 
the     mouth 

I  STOOD  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  A  GREAT  CANON  AT     of      a     great 

EVENING.  canon   at 

evenmg,  where  the  water  had,  by  the  attrition  of  the 
ao-es,  worn  its  way  through  hundreds  of  feet  of  solid 
granite.  The  beautiful  river,  whose  waters  came  from 
the  melted  snow  on  the  mountain  tops,  came  leaping  and 
dashmg  down  through  the  great  canon,  sprang  into  the 
valley  and  went  singing  on  to  the  sea.     The  valley  below 


Benevolent  Designs.  235 

was  covered  w^ith  cedars,  arranged  as  artistically  as  if 
they  had  been  planted  by  the  hand  of  man,  and  the 
mountain  sides  were  covered  with  stately  pine.  And 
far  away  up  and  beyond  all  I  could  see  the  lofty,  snow- 
capped summits  that  in  their  towermg  grandeui  seemed 
to  pierce  the  upper  skies.  I  stood  here  at  sunset  v/hen 
it  was  already  dark  in  the  valley,  but  still  light  upon  the 
mountain  tops.  The  sun  was  setting  and  I  saw  him 
pierce  the  mists  that  ever  hung  about  the  mountain's 
brow  with  his  broad  lances  of  light.  I  stood  in  the  dark 
ness  and  looked  into  the  light ;  I  stood  in  the  night  and 
looked  into  the  day. 

I  could  see  with  a  simple  glance  of  the  c'ye. 

To  the  place  where  the  day  bade  the  night  good-bye. 

Appalled  and  awe  stricken  by  the  beautiful  picture 
I  raised  my  eyes  that  I  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
hand  that  had  wrought  the  wonderful  scene,  and  there, 
high  up  on  the  granite  rocks,  I  beheld  traced  in  letters  of 
living  light  the  beautiful  legendary  inscription — "  Buy 
Frazei^'' s  Axle  Grease?'' 

And  so  I  did  come  home. 

"Was  your  trip  entirely  devoid  of  good?"  3-ou 
ask. 

Oh,  no.  Nothing  is  devoid  of  good  which  has 
good  intentions  behind  it.  I  went  out  all  oppressed  and 
sway-backed  with  a  big  desire  to  do  good  to  others, 
and  as  I  came  home  I  looked  over  toward  the  little 
orphan  school  and  felt  down  in  my  pocket  and  found 
about  three  dollars. 

I  didn''t  write  the  check. 


236  Benevolent  Designs. 

But  it  did  me  good.  The  next  best  thing  to  doing 
a  good  deed  is  to  want  to  do  it.  No  man  ever  felt  a 
great,  honest  desire,  deep  down  in  his  heart,  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  betterment  of  others  who  didn^t  grow  and 
broaden  and  become  a  better  man. 

"  A  noble  deed  is  a  step  toward  God." 
And  a  noble  desire  is  very  nearly  akin  to  a  noble 
deed.  It  is  desires  like  this,  and  deeds  when  we  can  do 
them,  that  constantly  develop  us  in  life  and  lift  us  up 
and  make  us  feel  our  kinship  with  Him  who  so  loved 
the  world  that  he  gave  his  life  for  it. 

"  Heaven  is  not  gained  at  a  single  bound, 
But  we  build  the  ladder  by  which  we  rise 
From  the  lowly  earth  to  the  vaulted  skies. 
And  we  mount  to  their  summits  luund  by  round." 


I 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DEATH    BED    REPENTANCE    AND    CONFES- 
SIONS. 


GENERA!.  CONSIDERATIONS — "CAUSE  OP  BILL  SIMPSON 
GOING  TO  H — L" — THE  "COLONEL,"  AND  THE  METEORIC  SHOW- 
ER— "uncle  mike"  and  the  story  op  the  STONING  OP 
STEPHEN. 

HE  doctor  sees  men  and 
women  at  their  weakest 
and  their  worst.  Some 
people  come  to  their  sick 
beds,  and,  perhaps,  to  their 
death  beds  with  all  the  ar 
rogance,  bravado  and  hau- 
teur of  their  every  day 
life.  But  not  many.  The 
sickness  that  threatens  life 
and  that  betokens  ap- 
proaching dissolution  causes  most  of  them  to  unbend. 

The  man  who  has  the  most  strenuously  denied  the 
authenticity  of  the  Scripture  when  well,  and  who  would 
walk  any  distance  and  sit  up  unusual  hours  in  order  to 
argue  with  a  preacher,  and,  if  possible,  overthrow  his 
faith  and  convert  him  to  his  agnostic  theories,  will,  after 
being  sick  a  day  or  two,  cease  to  argue,  and  as  the  case 
advances,  quit  swearing.  As  the  case  grows  more  seri- 
ous his  friends  suggest  that  he    ought  to  begin  to  pre- 


238         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

pare  for  the  other  world,  but  add  that  they  suppose  he 
don't  care  as  he  has  "  always  talked  against  religion."" 
He  turns  his  head  to  the  wall  and  says  he  "  was  jiist 
talking  to  hear  himself  talk."  If  he  makes  this  declara 
tion,  my  word  for  it,  within  twenty  four  hours  he  will 
have  either  priest  or  preacher,  and  will  either  confess  or 
have  prayers. 

I  have  seen  many  of  these  cases  of  confession  and 
attempts  at  reformation  by  parties  supposed  to  be  on 
their  death  beds.  The  doctor  is  frequently  consulted 
as  to  the  advisability  of  sending  for  a  minister.  It  is  a 
ticklish  point  for  the  doctor.  His  patient  may  be  in 
a  condition  which  makes  him  fearful  that  the  excitement 
attendant  upon  religious  exercises,  questions,  answers 
and  confession  may  turn  the  scale  against  him.  On  the 
other  hand  if  he  refuses  to  perm/it  a  minister  to  enter 
and  the  patient  becomes  delirious  or  unconscious  and 
dies  without  regaining  consciousness  the  doctor  will  be 
blamed  for  the  fact  that  the  deceased  must  suffer  the 
pangs  of  torment  throughout  the  unending  ages. 

That  is  a  pretty  strong  accusation  for  a  poor,  har- 
assed country  doctor  to  carry  about  with  him.  As  if 
he  was  the  author  of  all  the  sins  of  the  deceased. 

An  ignorant  fellow,  who  had  been  abusing  another 
doctor  to  me  once,  wound  up  his  inventory  of  the  doc- 
tor's sins  and  short-comings  with  the  statement  : 

"  He's  the  cause  of  Bill  Simpson  goin'  to  hell,  too." 

"  The  doctor  the  cause  of  such  a  thing!"  I  exclaimed. 
"  How  could  he  be?" 

"  Why  he   wouldn't    let    him    have    any  preacher. 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions.  239 

The}^  wanted  to  have  readin'  and  singin'  and  prayin'  be- 
fore Bill  got  outen  his  head,  and  the  old  blatherskite 
kicked  agin'  it  and  said  it  wouldn't  do  to  excite  him. 
Fust  thing  they  knowed  Bill  was  as  wild  as  a  Texas 
hoss  and  couldn't  tell  singin'  from  thunder,  and  he  never 
knowed  nothin'  after  that." 

Here  was  a  wicked  and  ignorant  fellow  who  really 
had  that  kind  of  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  "  readin'  and 
singin'  and  prayin'  "  that  caused  him  to  expect  another 
man,  as  wicked  and  ignorant  as  himself,  to  be  read  and 
sung  right  into  the  gates  of  Paradise.  Many  people, 
less  ignorant  and  not  wicked  at  all  feel,  if  they  do  not 
believe^  the  same  thing. 

The  doctor  must  decide  all  such  questions  for  what 
he  believes  to  be  to  the  best  interest  of  the  sick  one. 
The  doctor  may  be  himself  an  infidel.  I  have  known 
not  a  few  physicians  who  tried  to  preach  their  infidelity 
at  the  bed  side  of  the  sick.  This  is  a  very  wrong  and  a 
very  foolish  thing  to  do.  It  is  nearly  as  bad  to  try  to 
change  the  sick  one's  faith,  and  win  him  over  to  some 
new,  novel  or  different  faith.  The  doctor  has  to  do 
with  the  body  and  not  the  soul,  and  it  is  best  for  him  to 
leave  the  inculcation  of  religious  faith  and  religious 
ideas  to  those  who  are  trained  for  the  business. 

But  he  must  decide  as  to  the  admission  of  a  minis- 
ter. I  confess  that  it  is  sometimes  a  hard  problem  to 
solve.  I  have  generally  kept  myself  on  the  safe  side  by 
permitting  what  was  asked,  but  limiting  the  number  to 
be  admitted  and  warning  against  all  excitement. 

There  are  some  people  who  mistake  bodily  exer- 


240         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

cises  for  religious  exercises,  and  who  call  upon  their 
God  as  if  he  were  deaf  or  far  away.  With  such  the 
doctor  must  be  very  exact  in  his  limitations.  I  am  sure 
that  I  have  had  one  or  two  people  killed  by  this  kind  of 
thing. 

But  does  it  do  any  good? 

May  be  so;  may  be  not.  I  have  known  a  few  per- 
sons who  made  professions  of  repentance  and  reforma- 
tion when  sick,  who  kept  the  faith  after  recovery.  But 
the  great  majority  return  "  as  a  dog  to  his  vomit,  and  a 
sow  that  has  been  washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire.'' 

The  case  of  the  quarrelsome  old  lady  who  thought 
she  was  about  to  die  very  fairly  illustrates  this  class  of 
cases.  She  called  in  all  of  her  neighbors  with  whom 
she  had  quarrelled  and  forgave  them  and  was  forgiven. 
As  they  departed  she  called  out, 

"  Now  neighbors,  remember,  if  I  die  this  stands 
good;  but,  if  I  get  well  it  don't." 

So  it  is  with  these  people.  They  intend  for  their 
professions  to  count  if  they  die,  but  to  be  void  if  they 
recover. 

If  it  be  worth  while  for  a  man  to  make  preparation 
for  another  world — and  if  this  were  a  work  on  theology 
I  should  say  that  it  is — he  had  better  make  that  prepar- 
ation when  in  good  health  and  in  his  cool,  sober  senses. 
The  death  bed,  with  the  pulse  at  one  hundred  and  fifty 
and  the  brain  on  fire,  is  a  poor  place  to  consider  ques- 
tions of  such  tremendous  moment.  It  is  like  a  man  try- 
ing to  execute  his  last  will  and  testament  while  falling 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions.  241 

overboard  from  a   ship — it    is    apt  to  be   hurriedly,  and 
probably,  bunglingly  done. 

I  have  heard  and  known  of  some  very  ridiculous 
things  in  connection  with  the  actions  of  wicked  people 
who    expected    soon    to  "  shuffle  off  this    mortal    coil." 

There  have  been  many  stories  written  about  the 
conduct  of  people  on  the  night  that  the  "  stars  fell  "  in 
1833.     This  one  has  never  been  in  print  that  I  know  of: 

There  was  an  old  Kentuckian  who  was  uneducated 
and  rough,  but  naturally  a  very  shrewd  man.  He  was 
a  horse  trader  and  a  hog  drover  and  was  a  mean  and 
stingy  money  getter.  The  one  redeeming  trait  in  his 
close  fistedness  was  that  he  gambled.  He  exhibited 
here  enough  liberality  to  risk  his  money,  and  to  give 
others  a  chance  to  win  it  if  they  could.  But  he  was 
hoggish  in  his  nature,  was  brutal  and  overbearing  and 
generally  quit  a  winner.  He  pla3'ed  cards  because  he 
loved  to  win  money,  and  when  he  won  it  he  kept  it 
The  gambling  fraternity,  who,  whatever  else  may  be 
said  of  them,  are  liberal,  almost  to  a  man,  both  feared 
and  hated  him.  They  hated  him  for  his  brutality,  and 
his  meanness  generally,  and  they  feared  him  because  he 
was  rich,  and  it  is  in  gambling  as  it  is  in  almost  all  oth- 
er lines  of  business — the  fellow  with  the  big  pile  gener- 
ally has  his  opponent  at  a  disadvantage. 

On  the  night  of  the  great  meteoric  shower  this  old 
rascal  (whom  I  shall  call  Colonel  John)  was  playing 
with  two  young  men.  They  were  playing  poker  "  with- 
out limit,"  and  while  their  fortunes  varied  as  the  night 
wore  apace,  the  Colonel  had  "  hogged  "  most  of  the  big 


242  Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

bets.  He  would  put  up  so  much  money  that  the  other 
fellows  were  afraid  to  "  call,"  and  he  raked  it  in  without 
a  "  show  down."  In  addition  to  this  he  had  been  caught 
cheating  and  nothing  but  his  superior  strength,  his  brute 
courage  and  the  general  awe  which  his  reputation 
inspired  kept  him  from  being  mercilessly  handled. 

He  had  just  raked  in  the  last  dollar  that  the  other 
two  fellows  possessed  when  some  one  opened  the  win- 
dow blinds  and  noticed  an  unusual  light  without.  The 
meteoric  shower  had  probably  been  in  operation  for 
some  time,  but  the  blinds  had  been  closed  and  they  had 
not  seen  it. 

The  attention  of  all  was  now  arrested  by  this  celes- 
tial phenomenon.  The  Colonel  held  his  paw  on  his  pile 
of  money  and  leaned  over  and  strained  his  eyes  in 
watching  the  unusual  sight.  He  was  ignorant  of  astron- 
omy, and,  of  course,  this  could  mean  nothing  else  to  him 
than  some  terrible  visitation  of   the  Lord. 

One  of  the  other  gamblers  was  an  educated  fellow 
and  had  some  idea  of  what  the  nature  of  the  shower  was 
and  was  not  much  alarmed.  But  he  thought  he  would 
take  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  make  the  Colonel  dis- 
gorge his  ill  gotten  gains. 

"  ColoneV  said  he,  "  I  believe  the  world  is  coming 
to  an  end.'' 

"  Yes,  Jimmie,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  reckon  it  is,  I 
reckon  it  is.     It  looks  powerful  like  it,  dont  it. 

"Yes,  the  world  is  coming  to  an  end  and  you  have 
got  to  face  the  Lord  in  Judgm.ent  with  this  money,  which 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  ConfessioNvS.         243 

you  have    just  as  good  as  stolen,  in  your  hands.     What 
are  3'ou  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"  I-I-I  dunno,  Jimmie,  I-I  dunno.  What  do  you 
think  I  ought  to  do?" 

"  Why,  you  ought  to  give  it  up.  There  can  be  no 
repentance  and  no  forgiveness  in  a  case  hke  this  without 
restitution.  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  give  it  up  ?" 
'*  Well-well-well,  Jimmie,  I  expect  I  ought — I  ex- 
pect I  ought.  It's  too  bad,  ain't  it  ?  too  bad-bad-bad— 
bad!" 

"  Well,  if  you  think  you  ought  to  give  it  up,  why 
don't  you  do  it  ?  You  may  be  snatched  before  the 
Judgment  bar  at  any  moment,  Colonel;  give  me  back 
that  money." 

The  Colonel  leaned  forward  a  little  more  and  looked 
out  at  the  falling  meteors,  with  e3'es  protruding  and  a 
face  ashen  pale  ;  then  pushing  the  money  along  the  table 
a  few  inches  repeated  in  a  faltering  voice  : 

"Yes,  Jimmie,  I  reckon  I'd  better  give  it  up.  It 
does  look  as  if  the  world  was  comin'  to  a  eend,  and  I 
reckon  you'd  better  take  it.  It's  too  bad-too  bad-bad- 
bad-bad.'' 

"  Colonel,  you  sit  there  and  hold  on  to  that  money 
like  an  old  miserly  hog.  Why  don't  3'ou  hand  it  here  if 
you  expect  forgiveness  ?  You  know  you  stole  that 
money  and  that  you  are  no  better  than  a  robber.  You 
have  taken  the  money  that  should  buy  bread  for  my 
wife  and  children.  You  cheated  and  got  it  unfairly. 
The  Lord  is  preparing  for  the  Judgment  now.      In  a  few 


244         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

minutes  the  heavens  will  be  rolled  together  like  a  scroll 
and  then  it  may  be  too  late.     Give  me  that  money.'' 

The  Colonel  leaned  forward  and  took  another  look, 
his  e3'es  protruding  more  and  his  face  growing  still  more 
pale,  but  he  held  his  hand  on  the  money. 

"  Yes,  Jimmie,  I-I-I  reckon  3'ou'd  better  take  it. 
I  know  I've  been  bad.  I  know  I  have;  but  I  don't  want 
to  meet  the  Lord  with  this  money,  Jimmie.  I  reckon 
Vd  better  give  it  up.'' 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  do  it  then  ?  Don't  you  see 
that  the  whole  universe  is  being  consumed  b}'  fire  and 
that  everything  is  being  dissolved  by  fervent  heat? 
Colonel,  don't  go  before  the  Great  Judge  with  this  stain 
upon  your  soul.     Give  me  that  money.'' 

And  thus  they  had  it. 

At  each  time  that  the  Colonel  would  confess  that 
he  ought  to  give  it  up  he  would  shove  it  over  toward 
Jimmie  a  little  farther,  but  still  kept  his  hand  upon  it. 

Jimmie  took  hold  of  the  Colonel's  hand  and  tried  to 
get  the  money  but  the  Colonel  clutched  it  nervously  and 
held  on. 

Finally,  Jim  made  a  last  appeal.  He  described  the 
Judgment  to  the  Colonel  and  told  him  that  if  he  did  not 
give  the  money  up  he  would  be  sent  to  hell  and  con- 
signed to  apartments  where  he  would  be  burned  with 
fire,  but  never  consumed. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  Colonel,  I  don't  want  3^ou  to  go 
to  hell,  and  I  know  you  don't  want  to  go  there.  Will 
you  give  me  that  money  and  save  your  blackened  soul 
from  perdition." 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 


245 


The  Colonel  was  still  watching  the  sk}^  with  pro- 
truding eyes  and  ashen  face. 

"  Well,  yes,  Jimmie,  I  guess  I'd  better  give  it  up. 
I  donH  want  to  go  before  the  Lord  in  this  fix.  I  guess 
you'd  better  take  it.     I  know  I  as  good   as   stole  it  and 


"i-i-i  think  it's  a  clarin'  up  a  little  bit." 
I'm  afraid   the    Lord    won't    forgive   me.     I-I-I   guess 
you'd  better  take  it." 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  you   let  me  take  it  ?"  said 
Jimmie  as  he  clutched  the  Colonel's  hand. 


246         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

Just  then  there  was  a  ver}'  perceptible  diminution 
in  the  number  of  meteors  that  were  falHno:. 

The  Colonel  saw  this,  and  leaning  forward  a  little 
farther  toward  the  window,  his  face  brightened  as  he 
drew  the  money  toward  himself  and  exclaimed  with 
great  excitement : 

''Hold  071,  Jimmie,  hold  o?i  a  minit!  I-I~I—tJiink 
if  s-a-clarhi'  tip  a  little  bity 

And  so  he  kept  the  money. 

I  have  seen  a  great  man}-  who  thought  they  were 
near  to  the  Judgment  and  who  professed  great  repentance 
and  reformation,  but  when  they  saw  "  it  clarin'  up  a 
little,"  they  changed  their  minds. 

The  case  of  the  Colonel  illustrates  the  ''  ruling  pas- 
sion strong  in  death,' ^  but  I  have  one  w^hich  occurred  in 
my  own  practice  illustrating  the  same  point,  but  where 
the  ruling  passion  w^as  not  the  love  of  money. 

There  w^as  an  old  man  in  my  county  who  had  come 
there  in  a  very  early  .day — so  earh-  in  fact  that  there 
were  few  whites  in  that  region  except  the  Presbyterian 
Missionaries  to  the  Osage  Indians  at  the  old  Harmony 
Mission  on  the  Maries  des  C}'gnes  river. 

His  name  was  Mike. 

At  least  Mike  was  his  first  name  and  that  will  do. 
Mike  came  from  old  Tennessee  in  his  young  married  life 
and  settled  down  here  in  the  wilds  of  western  Missouri 
with  little  except  his  strong  arm  and  his  determined 
courage  with  which  to  hew  out  his  fortune. 

He  had  a  long  back,  short  legs,  long,  muscular 
arms  and  a  head  as  round  as  a  cocoanut. 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions.  247 

His  weakness  was  fighting.  Mike  just  dearly 
loved  to  contest  disputed  points  with  his  fellow  men 
with  his  two  knotty  fists.  He  was  built  for  fighting  and 
was  a  hard  citizen  to  handle.  If  you  happened  to  be 
in  the  county  seat  on  a  public  day  and  would  keep  your 
eyes  open  along  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
you  would  see  men  coming  from  all  directions  toward  a 
certain  point.  Hurrying  to  this  point  you  would  see 
great  clouds  of  dust  rising  so  thick  that  you  could  see 
nothing  but  legs  and  arms  whirling  promiscuously  in  the 
air.  After  a  while  you  would  cease  to  see  the  legs  and 
then  if  you  would  listen  you  could  hear  a  sound  like  a 
dog  chewing  gristle. 

Then  the  constable  and  a  hastily  summoned  posse 
would  rush  into  this  mountain  of  dust  and  after  a  little 
while  one  man  would  come  forth  leading  Mike  and  four 
others  would  come  out  carrying  the  other  fellow.  Mike 
would  go  and  wash  his  bleeding  nose  or  skinned  cheek 
and  then  would  be  ready  to  "  argue  the  question  "  in 
the  same  way  with  some  one  else.  If  they  didn't 
"double  teams  "  on  him  (and  that  was  rare  in  those 
daysj  he  was  almost  sure  to  be  a  victor. 

Sometimes  he  would  meet  with  a  big  fellow  who 
would  go  at  him  with  a  rush  and  get  him  down  and 
maul  his  cocoanut  head  into  the  dust  or  mud  until  he 
wore  himself  out  and  lost  his  wind,  when  Mike  would 
get  a  thumb  in  his  mouth,  twist  out,  get  on  top  and  in 
a  very  few  seconds  after  he  begun  to  "  work  his  machine" 
you  would  hear  the  muffled  "  Nuff"  come  from  his  op- 
ponent. 


248         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

Mike  never  said  "Nuff." 

1  do  not  think  that  he  ever  quoted  or  ever  heard 
that  "The  Old  Guard  dies  but  never  surrenders,"  for  he 
was  not  a  man  who  crystalHzed  his  thoughts  and  princi- 
ples into  short  sentences  of  this  kind  ;  but  he  lived  and 
fought  on  that  principle.  You  might  have  pounded  the 
life  out  of  him  but  he  wouldn't  say  "  Nuff." 

After  one  of  Mike's  fights  he  would  go  home  and 
sober  off  (I  forgot  to  say  that  Mike  drank)  and  stick 
some  pickings  from  an  old  fur  hat  on  his  wounds  and  go 
about  his  farm  as  quietly  as  a  deacon.  He  was  a  good, 
quiet  neighbor  and  was  generous  to  a  fault.  His  herds 
grew  on  the  unlimited  prairies  and  Mike  prospered.  He 
got  to  be  one  of  the  largest  and  best  farmers  in  the 
county.  After  one  of  his  fights  he  would  not  go  to 
town  for  two  or  three  months;  but  when  he  did  go  he 
was  almost  sure  to  get  drunk  and  have  two  or  three 
fights.  This  continued  until  Mike  began  to  grow  old, 
and,  like  all  great  fighters,  he  had  to  yield  the  belt  to 
some  one  else.  He  gave  up  the  championship  grudg- 
ingly but  he  had  to  do  it.  He  got  used  up  badly  once 
or  twice  by  stronger  men  and  so,  concluding  that  "  dis- 
cretion is  the  better  part  of  valor,"  Mike  quit  fighting. 
But  he  would  come  to  town  and  get  drunk  and  quarrel 
and  incite  others  to  fight  ;  for  Mike  was  not  hoggish — 
if  he  couldn't  do  a  thing  himself  he  liked  to  see  others 
do  it. 

After  I  had  been  practicing  in  this  county  several 
years  Mike  came  to  town  on  a  public  day  in  a  two  horse 
wagon  and  got  drunk,  as   was  his  custom.     He  started 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions.         249 

home  after  dark,  and,  it  is  probable  that  he  went  to 
sleep  on  the  spring  seat  of  his  wagon. 

One  of  the  front  wheels  ran  into  a  rut  and  he  tum- 
bled over  the  wheel  to  the  ground.  His  arm  fell  across 
the  rut  and  the  wagon  wheels  on  that  side  ran  over  it 
and  fractured  it  between  the  elbow  and  the  shoulder. 
The  horses  took  the  wagon  and  went  on  home.  Mike 
was  too  drunk  and  too  much  hurt  to  travel,  so  he  lay 
upon  the  ground  and  slept  and  shivered  through  a  frosty 
September  night. 

His  family  found  the  team  at  the  front  gate  the 
next  morning  and  at  once  came  back  in  search  of  Mike. 
A  friend  of  mine  was  sent  for  and  went  out  and  set  the 
fracture.  Within  a  day  or  two  Mike  developed  a  pneu- 
monia and  it  was  not  many  days  until  he  seemed  to  be 
on  the  verge  of  death.  A  consultation  was  asked  for 
and  I  was  called  in.  I  found  the  old  warrior  in  great 
peril.  His  right  lung  was  consolidated,  his  respiration 
bad,  his  pulse  irregular  and  faltering  and  his  tempera- 
ture hiofh. 

Mike  was  sixty-five  years  old  and  the  prognosis  was 
unfavorable.  My  friend  asked  me  to  give  my  opinion, 
which  was  also  his  own,  to  the  wife  and  mother  of  the 
household. 

She  was  a  good,  kindly  woman,  a  warm  hearted 
Methodist  and  a  splendid  wife,  mother  and  neighbor. 

She  had  lived  with  this  great  fighting  man  and  his 
tiger  nature  for  more  than  forty  years,  had  cooked  his 
meals,  done  his  washing,  and  bound  up  his  wounds  re- 
ceived in  his  ''  arguments  ''  with  his    fellows.     Nor  was 


250         Oeath  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

Mike  nrean  to  her.  He  was  too  brave  a  man  to  strike 
a  woman.  Time  and  again  had  she  urged  him  to  quit 
his  evil  ways  and  try  to  be  a  Christian.  Mike  had 
always  met  these  exhortations  with  grunts  and  got  out 
of  the  way  as  soon  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

He  respected  religion,  and  thought  it  was  a  good 
thing  for  women  and  children  who  were  weak  and 
couldn't  fight;  but  for  a  strong  man  who  could  defend 
Mmself,  Mike  thought  it  was  nonsense. 

It  was  too  much  like  "  begging  the  question  ''  and 
crying  "  Nuff  "  for  him  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it. 

After  I  had  given  the  good  wife  and  mother  my 
opinion  of  Mike's  case,  she  asked  me  if  I  would  not 
frankly  tell  him  of  his  danger.     She  added : — 

"  I  have  tried  time  and  again  to  get  him  to  be  a 
Christian.  Since  he  has  been  sick  I  have  asked  him 
several  times  to  let  me  read  the  scripture  to  him,  but  he 
will  not  let  me.  Doctor,  please  try  to  impress  him  with 
a  sense  of  his  danger.  I  don't  want  him  to  go  in  this 
way.  He  has  alwa3's  been  so  wicked  and  yet  he  has 
been  a  good,  kind  husband  to  me,  and  if  he  would  only 
seek  the  Lord  so  that  I  could  meet  him  in  Heaven  I 
would  be  so  happy." 

Then  she  burst  into  tears.  After  talking  with  the 
other  doctor  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  frankly  tell 
"  Uncle  Mike  "  what  we  thought  of  his  condition. 

I  went  in  and  said: 

"Uncle  Mike,  you  are  a  ver}'  sick  man." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  suppose  I  am." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I    feel   it   my   duty  to  tell  you  the 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions.         251 

truth.  You  are  sixty-five  years  old,  you  have  a  broken 
arm  and  after  an  all  night's  exposure  you  have  pneu- 
monia in  one  lung  and  there  is  a  suspicion  in  our  minds 
that  the  other  is  about  to  be  invaded.  If  you  have  any 
unsettled  business,  either  pertaining  to  the  here  or  the 
hereafter  you  had  better  attend  to  it  at  once.  We 
think  that  the  chances  are  that  3^ou  will  die.  Now,  I 
don't  want  to  scare  you" — 

"  You    can't    scare   me    by sn-,  you  needn't  say 

that." 

"■  Pardon  me.  Uncle  Mike,  I  know  you  are  not  a 
coward,  but  if  you  wish  to  make  a  will  or  have  any  un- 
finished business  you  had  better  attend  to  it  at  once." 

With  this  I  left  him. 
,    His  wife — "  Aunt   Jane,"  as    she    was    called — met 
me  on  the  porch  and  asked  me  what  he  said. 

I  told  her  and  she  turned  sadly  away  with  disap- 
pointment in  her  face. 

I  continued  to  attend  the  case  with  my  friend,  and 
"  Uncle  Mike "  grew  better  day  by  day.  After  his 
recovery  was  assured  "  Aunt  Jane  "  told  us  the  follow- 
ing story,  and  she  laughed  through  streaming  tears 
while  telling  it : 

"  On  the  afternoon  after  you  had  told  my  husband 
of  his  dangerous  condition,  I  was  sitting  near  his  bed 
and  watching  him.  He  lay  and  looked  up  at  one  spot 
on  the  ceiling  for  about  an  hour.  Then  he  turned  his 
head  and  said: 

"Jane,  come  here." 

I  went  to  his  bed  side  and  asked  : 


252         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

"What  do  3-0U  want,  dear?" 

He  lay  still  a  moment  and  then  said  in  a  choking 
voice : 

"Jane,  3'ou-may  get-that-book and-read-some 

to  me if  you — want  to." 

I  was  so  pleased  that  I  almost  flew  to  the  stand 
where  the  Bible  was.  I  picked  it  up  and  went  and  sat 
down  by  the  bed  and  wiped  my  spec's.  I  began  reading 
from  the  first  place  I  opened — for  I  have  always  heard 
that  it  was  luck}'  to  do  that.  I  happened  to  open  at  the 
account  of  the  stoning  of  Stephen.  I  read  and  spelled 
the  story  through  as  best  I  could — for  I  am  not  a  good 
reader." 

When  I  had  finished,  I  noticed  that  my  husband's 
face  was  flushed  and  the  muscles  were  working.  I  felt 
happy,  for  I  thought  that,  may  be,  the  spirit  was  at  work 
in  his  obdurate  heart.     He  looked  at  me  and  said : 

"Jane,  read  that  again." 

I  slowly  and  carefully  read  the  story  again.  As  I 
went  on  and  read  about  how  tlie  mob  put  upon  Stephen 
and  beat  him,  I  could  see  my  husband  work  his  under 
jaw  and  draw  his  shoulders  up  and  get  more  flushed  in 
the  face  and  I  felt  sure  that  he  was  about  to  be  convert- 
ed. When  I  came  to  where  Stephen  knelt  down  and 
prayed  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  hardly  keep  himself  in 
bed,  and  when  I  had  finished  he  turned  over  on  his 
splinted  arm  and  raised  the  other  up  and  clenched  his 
fist  and  gritted  his  teeth  and  said  : 

"Jane,  they  were   a  set   of    d d  cowards    to    all 


Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 


253 


jump  on  to  one  man  like  that.     If   I'd  a  been  there  Pel  a 

whipped    a    half    dozen    of    the     d d,    white   livered 

cowards." 

This  was  in  accordance  with  Mike's  principles,  for, 
if  he  ever  took  part  in  other  men's  fights  he  always 
fought  for  the  "  bottom  dog  in  the  fight.'' 

*  Uncle  Mike  "  recovered  in  spite  of  our  unfavora- 
ble prognosis.  Within  a  few  years  he  joined  the  chuixh, 
and  for  the  last  few  years  of  his  life  he  lived  a  quiet, 
sober  and  religious  life,whicli  made  "  Aunt  Jane  ''  so  hap- 
py thatshe  al- 
most felt  that 
she  had  been 
translated  in 
the  flesh. 

They  are 
b  oth  dead 
now  an  d 
their  bodies 
rest  side  by 
side,  and  it 
is  reasonable 
to     presume 

"jane,  they  was  a  set  of  d — D  COWARDS."  that,  n  o  t- 
withstanding  "  Uncle  Mike's  "  stormy  and  belligerent  life 
here,  he  may  be  able  to  get  along  with  the  saints  with- 
out a  row.  We  have  a  foundation  for  this  hope,  when 
we  know  that  "  Uncle  Mike"  can  not  get  drunk  "Up 
There.''     And  it  is  my  smcere  prayer,  and  the  reader's. 


254         Death  Bed  Repentance  and  Confessions. 

I  hope,  that  "  Aunt  Jane  "  is  happy  with  this  once 
stormy  old  warrior,  but  now  quiet  and  bhssful  compan- 
ion "on  the  evergreen  shore." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SHAM  SUICIDES. 

A  STARTLING  STATEMENT — THE  YOUNG  WIFE — THE  JILT- 
ED GIRL  AND  THE  DEADLY  FLOUR — DR.  EGGSLINGER — STORY 
OF  THE  WIDOW  MINOR — THE  REJECTED  LOVER — HOW  TO  DE- 
TECT THE   FRAUD. 


^T  may,  perhaps,  seem  like  a  strong 
statement,  coming  as  it  does  from 
a  physician,  when  I  say  that  out  of 
the  great  number  of  cases  of  sup- 
posed poisoning — poison  taken  with 
a  suicidal  intent — to  which  a  doctor 
is  called,  not  more  than  one  in  four 
has  really  taken  poison.  I  have 
run  over  all  the  cases  to  which  I 
have  been  called  within  about 
twenty-three  years  and  I  find  that  the  cases  average 
about  one  each  year,  and  out  of  these  twenty-three 
cases  there  are  five  cases  in  which  poison  had  reall}^ 
been  taken  with  suicidal  intent. 

The  reader  will  naturally  inquire, 
"  Then  what  motives  impel    people  to  pretend    to 
have  done  such   a  thing  when  the  i-esult  could  only  be 
hurtful  to  themselves  .f^" 

The  motives  are  as  numerous  and  as  foolish,  dear 


256  Sham  Suicides. 

reader,  as  are  the  motives  which  impel  poor,  weak  hu- 
man beings  to  do  other  wrong  and  fooHsh  things. 

Let  us  see : 

Here  is  a  young  woman  whose  parents  are  in  mod- 
erate circumstances  in  life.  She  is  reasonably  well  edu- 
cated, is  prett}',  emotional,  weak,  vapid  and  hysterical, 
and  to  add  to  the  difficulty,  she  reads  the  trashiest  of 
trashy  novels.  In  other  words,  she  has  cultivated  a 
morbid  element  in  her  nature  and  you  can  not  expect 
anything  but  morbid  processes  in  morbid  conditions. 

A  3-oung  man  comes  to  see  her — courts  her  in  fact. 
He  is  young,  handsome  and,  perhaps,  bad.  His  .station 
in  life  is  above  hers,  so  that  whether  he  be  true  or  false, 
some  people  wall  feel  warranted  in  questioning  his  mo- 
tives. 

The  poor  girl  loves  him.  She  builds  an  air  castle 
for  the  future  which  he  and  she  are  to  occupy.  They 
will  have  nothing  to  do,  according  to  her  romantic  ways 
of  thinking,  but  bask  (these  poor  fools  are  always  "  bask- 
ing'^ in  something)  in  shady  bowers  and  watch  the  sun 
throw  rainbow  tints  through  spurting  fountains  while 
they  suck  eternal  and  everlasting  bliss  through  double 
straws. 

Suddenly  the  young  man  quits  coming.  This  is 
not  the  worst ;  he  goes  to  see  another  girl  and  she  finds 
it  out.  He  avoids  her  on  the  street  and  at  the  sociable. 
This  is  a  terrible  disappointment  to  a  weak  and  emo- 
tional nature.  It  is  an  awful  shock  to  a  romantic  young 
girl  who  has  builded  so  many  rose-tinted  air  castles. 

What  shall  she  do  ? 


Sham  Suicidks.  257 

She  must  win  him  back.      He  must  return. 

She  puts  her  poor  httle  wits  to  work  to  devise 
means  by  which  she  can  influence  him,  and,  foohsh  girl 
that  she  is,  does  the  ver}'  thing  that  she  ought  not.  But 
she  is  sensational  and  romantic,  or  nothing,  and  what- 
ever she  does  must  have  the  elements  of  a  tragedy  in  it. 
She  goes  down  town  and  purchases  ten  cents'  worth  of 
strychnia  or  morphia.  Then  she  goes  home  and  changes 
the  poison  for  flour  and,  going  into  the  presence  of  her 
mother  and  sister,  she  empties  the  flour  into  her  mouth, 
takes  a  drink  of  water,  and  throwing  herself  into  a  trag- 
ic attitude  says,  "  Oh,  dear  mother  and  sister  I  must  die. 
I  have  taken  poison,"  and  then  flops  down  on  the  sofa, 
shuts  both  eyes  tightly  and  goes  to  foaming  at  the 
mouth.  Of  course  the  mother  and  sister  are  alarmed. 
The  family  physician  or  "  any  physician,"  is  sent  for  in 
hot  haste.  He  comes,  and,  whether  ignorantly  or  not 
depends  on  circumstances,  fills  the  miserable  thing  with 
whites  of  eggs  and  rancid  grease  and  sits  by  her  bed- 
side all  night.  After  a  while  she  begins  to  show  signs 
of  returning  consciousness ;  she  rolls  and  moans  and 
finally  exclaims, 

"Oh  Henry!  My  Henry!  Oh,  don't  let  them  kill 
my  dear  Henry!  Bring  him  to  me  and  I  will  die  in  his 
place.'' 

Now  this  is  a  fine  case  of  private  theatricals.  Per- 
haps Henry  is  sent  for  and  perhaps  not.  At  all  events 
Henry  is  a  rascal  and  he  feels  that  he  is  in  his  very 
bones. 

The  morning  paper  announces  that. 


258  Sham  Suicides. 

"  We  regret  to  learn  that  Miss  Maude  Ciishaw,  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  (these  people  are  always 
beautiful  and  accomplished)  daughter  of  our  esteemed 
fellow  townsman,  Col.  Cushaw,  took  a  deadly  poison 
with  suicidal  intent,  but  Dr.  Eggslinger  was  called  and 
after  using  the  stomach  pump  (bah!  Dr.  Eggslinger 
never  saw  a  stomach  pump  in  his  life)  and  the  usual 
remedies  her  numerous  friends  will  be  glad  to  learn  that 
the  young  lady  is  in  a  fair  way  to  recover. 

Dr.  Eggslinger  goes  about  quietly  and  bears  his 
honors  meekly,  feeling  that  it  is  not  every  country  prac- 
titioner who  can  save  an  accomplished  young  lady  from 
the  deadly  effects  of  a  full  dose  of  XXX  flour  with  a 
stomach  pump  (which  he  did  not  have)  and  the  "usual 
remedies." 

A  young  and  childless  wife  grows  jealous  of  her 
husband.  He  remains  out  late  at  night  and  seems  to 
be  growing  cold  and  neglectful,  and  when  she  falls  on 
his  neck  and  takes  the  starch  out  of  his  shirt  collar  with 
her  tears,  he  pushes  her  away  and  says  "  Oh,  pshaw, 
Mary,  you  are  foolish,"  and  goes  and  gets  a  dry  collar 
and  then  goes  down  town.  She  reads  in  the  papers 
about  the  faithlessness  of  other  men  and  she  concludes 
that  John  must  be  faithless,  too.  The  poor,  loving 
thing  almost  breaks  her  heart  in  thinking  and  weeping, 
and  her  poor  life  becomes  thoroughly  miserable.  She 
begins  to  cast  about  her  for  a  remedy  with  which  to  win 
John  back  to  his  first  love;  and  if  she  is  emotional  and 
reads  trashy  novels,  it  is  ten  to  one  she  will  try  the 
"poison  racket  "  as  the  remedy. 


Sham  Suicides.  259 

Another  woman  has  been  doing  wrong.  She  has 
gone  in  "by  and  forbidden  ways"  and  at  last  gets 
caught.  The  newspaper  writes  her  up  without  mercy 
and  the  town  rolls  the  scandal  as  a  sweet  morsel  under 
its  ponderous,  wagging  tongue.  The  poor,  guilty 
woman  stands  the  strain  for  a  day  or  two  and  then  takes 
poison — -from  the  flour  barrel. 

I  had  just  such  a  case  once.  To  the  small  town 
where  I  was  practicing  there  came  a  widow  of  the  grass 
variety — a  regular  hay  mow.  She  was  young  and  dash- 
ing, and  while  she  was  not  beautiful,  she  was  good  look- 
ing- and  outdressed  all  the  other  women  in  town.  She 
connected  herself  with  a  prominent  church,  plunged 
right  into  the  middle  of  "  our  best  society  "  with  a  "  hop, 
skip,  and  a  jump,"  and,  in  a  short  time,  cut  a  swath  like 
a  selfraking  reaper. 

There  were  two  young  widowers  suing  for  her  hand, 
apparently,  but  a  red  nosed  grocer  got  away  with  the 
prize.  He  had  an  enormous  nose  which  always  had  the 
appearance  of  having  been  recently  painted  and  var- 
nished, and  his  eyes  always  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
lined  with  red  flannel  and  stitched  on  the  sewing  ma- 
chine {ynarginal  blepharitis^. 

The  widow  had  rooms  (in  which  she  kept  her  mil- 
linery) at  our  principal  hotel  and  George  (the  grocer- 
man)  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  his  Sunda3's  in  the 
widow's  "office."  The  jealous  widowers  peeped  through 
the  glass  in  the  door  and  saw  things  too  horrible  to 
relate.  Withm  an  hour  it  was  all  over  town  and  formed 
the  theme  for  a  ten  day's  gossip.     On  the  next  day  a 


26o  Sham  Suicides. 

young  man  rushed  into  my  office  and  breathlessly 
informed  me  that  "  Misses  Minor  has  tuck  pizen  and 
they  want  you  to  go  just  as  quick  as  you  can  get  thar." 

I  went. 

It  was  my  first  case  of  poisoning  and  I  cudgeled  my 
brain  on  the  way  as  to  what  I  should  do. 

Arriving  at  the  room  I  found  the  widow  on  the  bed 
with  eyes  shut  tight  and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  She 
was  surrounded  by  the  kind  hearted  hotel  keeper,  his 
wife,  and  several  other  ladies — all  wringing  their  hands 
and  lamenting  that  such  a  thing  should  occur  in  our 
quiet  and  moral  town.  I  felt  of  her  pulse.  It  was  sev- 
enty-six, soft  and  regular;  pupils  normal  and  responsive 
to  the  light.  It  was  my  first  case  and  I  was  young,  but 
I  was  wise  enough  to  know  that  the  widow  was  "  actin' 
up."  I  asked  who  would  most  probably  have  brought 
her  the  poison,  if  she  had  really  taken  it.  They  all 
accused  the  grocer  in  one  unanimous  and  concurrent 
breath.  I  sent  for  George  and  he  came.  His  nose  had 
taken  on  a  real  inflammatory  hue  and  the  red  flannel 
hung  over  the  edges  of  the  free  borders  of  the  lids  a 
little  more  than  usual.  I  questioned  him  and  he  swore 
by  the  memory  of  all  the  saints  that  he  had  brought  her 
nothing.  This  confirmed  my  diagnosis.  But  I  must 
save  the  poor  widow's  reputation.  She  had  suffered 
enough  for  permitting  George,  with  his  erysipelatous 
proboscis  and  his  carmine  optics,  to  take  off  his  shoes  and 
coat  and  lie  down  on  the  bed  (for  that  was  all  that  had 
been  seen)  while  she  sat  and  lovingly  kept  the  flics  off 
him.     The  flies  were  always  lighting   on  and  inspecting 


Sham  Suicides.  261 

George's  nose  and  looking  into  his  flaming  orbs,  and 
any  good  milliner  might  have  been  permitted  to  keep 
them  away  without  compromising  herself.  George's 
nose  might  spoil  if  they  were  permitted  to  invade  it  and 
that  would  be  terrible. 

I  said,  so  that  all  could  hear  me  (and  I  especially 
wanted  the  widow  to  hear  me): 

"  I  don't  think  this  lad}^  has  taken  anything.  I  am 
not  acquainted  with  her,  but  she  looks  like  too  sensible  a 
woman  to  commit  self  destruction.  Her  mind  and  ner 
vous  system  have  been  put  to  a  great  strain  in  conse- 
quence of  these  ugly  stories,  and  it  has  thrown  her  into 
a  state  of  catalepsy,  but  she  will  come  out  all  right.  How- 
ever, I  always  give  the  patient  the  benefit  of  the  doubt 
and  shall,  therefore,  give  her  an  emetic." 

I  mixed  up  a  solution  of  Tartar  emetic  and  epicac 
(a  mos»t  abominable  compound)  and  put  a  teaspoonful 
in  her  mouth.  She  worked  it  out.  I  put  in  another, 
covered  her  mouth  with  my  hand  and  held  her  nose  be- 
tween my  thumb  and  index  finger.  The  milliner  hesi- 
tated and  then^swallowed.  I  repeated  the  dose  every 
five  minutes.  After  the  third  dose  the  milliner  began 
to  turn  white  around  the  mouth  and  great  beads  of  per- 
spiration stood  on  her  forehead.  She  got  limber  and 
then  she  made  a  plunge  for  the  bed  side.  I  was  pre- 
pared for  this  and  received  her  with  applause  and  a 
wash  basin.  It  was  not  long  until  the  first  act  was 
encored  and  the  encore  was  repeated.  Then  the  milliner 
began  to  mutter.  I  knew  she  was  "  coming  to."  ] 
would  have  s^iven  her  more  of  the  vile  stuff,  but  she  had 


262 


Sham  Suicides. 


already  thrown  up  her  immortal  soul  and  I  thought 
enough  was  enough.  My  partner  having  arrived  I  sent 
every  bod}'  else  out  of  the  room.  As  the  widow  had 
been  paddling  for  more  than  an  hour  in  the  disagreeable 
and  uncertain  waters  of  assumed  unconsciousness  I 
wished  to  give  her  a  chance  to  come  ashore.  She  mut- 
tered some  more,  and  then  talked: 
'^  Oh,  father,  dear  father," 

"  Come  home  with  me  now,"  I  added  in  an  "  aside" 

to   my    part- 
ner. 

"They 
have  been 
pilin'  big 
rocks  on  your 
Ophelia." 

"  Ophelia! 
ye  gods,  this 
is  high  trag- 
edy," in  an- 
other aside 

I  RECEIVED  HER  WITH    APPLAUSE   AND   A  WASH  "  Oh,  fath- 

BAsiN.  er,  come  " 

("where  my  love  lies  dreaming,"  aside) 

"And  take  your  poor  child  home." 

Then  she  did  the  finest  piece  of  acting  I  ever  saw 
on  or  off  the  stage. 

As  I  was  lifting  her  back  after  one  of  her  ineffectual 
attempts  to  sta74  the  plantar  fascia,  she  suddenly  opened 


Sham  Suicides.  263 

her  eyes  and  then,  with  a  startled  look  and  drawing  in 
her  breath  and  lifting  her  hands  deprecatingl}',  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  father;   who  are  you?" 

'  No,  I  am  not  father,  I  am   just  father  pi-o  tan. 
Lie  down,  my  dear,  you'll  take  cold." 

The  widow  recovered,  sold  out  her  millinery  in  bulk 
and  went  out  in  the  country  to  remain  a  while  with  a 
kind  family  which  belonged  to  that  branch  of  the  church 
which  had  championed  her  cause.  About  a  month  after- 
ward they  began  to  tire  of  her  and  informed  her  that 
they  could  not  keep  her  longer.  On  that  night  I  re- 
ceived an  urgent  call  to  go  out  and  see  her  as  she  was 
supposed  to  be  dying.  I  knew  that  she  was  not,  but  I 
went  out.  On  arriving  at  the  place  I  was  met  at  the 
door  by  the  kind  hearted  lady  of  the  house  (a  most  no- 
ble and  beautiful  character  of  a  good,  religious  wife  and 
mother)  who  was  trembling  and  weeping.  She  hur- 
riedly told  me  that  she  had  that  afternoon  told  the  wid- 
ow that  she  could  not  keep  her  longer;  soon  afterward 
the  widow  had  dumped  herself  on  the  lounge,  set  her 
teeth  and  foamed  at  the  mouth,  and,  she  had  not  spoken 
a  word  since  and  the  good  lady  was  afraid  she  would 
die.  I  soon  calmed  her  fears  and  went  into  the  presence 
of  the  supposed  to  be  dying  woman. 

I  wished  to  do  what  talking  I  had  to  do  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  patient.     The  lady  asked  : 

"Doctor,  do  you  think  she  will  die?" 

"  Oh,  no,''  I  answered,  "  she  is  in  a  peculiar  ner- 
vous condition  called  catalepsy.     You    remember    that 


264  Sham  Suicides. 

she  had  a  similar  attack  at  the  hotel,  but  I  soon  brought 
her  out  of  it.  I  have  a  remedy  which  will  vomit  and 
relax  her,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  she  will  be  all  right. 
Now  I  knew  that  I  was  not  going  to  get  to  repeat  that 
nauseous  dose  in  the  widow's  case.  No  person  ever 
wants  to  take  that  dose  twice. 

But  I  began  to  mix  the  dose  and  then  the  widow 
began  to  grind  her  teeth  and  mutter.  I  knew  she  was 
preparing  to  come  ashore  before  taking  the  medicine. 
I  continued  to  stir  the  dose  and  talk  to  the  lady  of  the 
house  about  catalepsy  and  the  rapid  action  of  the  drug. 
After  a  few  minutes  she  opened  her  eyes,  gazed  wander- 
ingly  around,  fastened  her  gaze  on  me  and  asked  with  a 
surprised  voice  : 

*'  Why,  good  evening,  doctor,  where  did  3'ou  come 
from.^" 

"Oh,  I  dropped  right  down  from  Heaven — came  to 
minister  to  the  suffering.'" 

I  announced  that  it  would  not  be  necessar}'  to  give 
the  remedy  since  she  had  come  out  of  the  cataleptic 
state  without  it. 

The  widow  soon  flitted  away  be3'ond  my  horizon 
and  went — the  Lord  only  knows  where.  But,  if  she  be 
living  and  her  eyes  ever  read  this  stor}'  I  wish  to  apolo- 
gize to  her  for  having  given  her  the  abominable  dose.  I 
had  been  taught  by  older  heads  that  it  was  the  proper 
thing  to  do  in  cases  of  hysteria  and  of  persons  making 
pretense  when  there  was  nothing  the  matter.  The  ad- 
vice was  very  bad  and  my  action  altogether  wrong. 
Doctors  should   be  ministers    of    healing    and  .therefore 


I 


Sham  Suicides.  265 

have  no  right  to  administer  punishment.  No  matter 
how  reprehensible  the  action  of  the  patient  the  doctor 
should  remember  that  it  is  his  province  to  come  with 
heaHng  in  his  hands,  in  his  voice,  in  his  every  act. 

We  should  learn  to  look  leniently  on  all  such  cases, 
for  they  must  necessarily  come  from  morbid  conditions 
of  either  mind  or  bod}'.  I  would  much  rather  be  loved 
for  my  kindness  and  tenderness  toward  a  poor,  misera- 
ble wretch  than  to  be  hated  for  my  cruelty.  It  is  our 
duty,  when  alone  with  such  patients  to  speak  very 
plainly  to  them  and  to  give  them  to  understand  that  we 
are  not  deceived  (for  none  of  us  like  to  be  taken  for 
fools)  but  whatever  we  do  and  whatever  we  say  should 
be  said  and  done  in  great  kindness. 

Poor  weak  women  are  not  the  only  ones  who  are 
capable  of  and  liable  to  do  such  foolish  things.  Men 
often  persuade  themselves  that  they  can  move  upon  the 
feelings  of  a  loved  one  or  excite  the  sympathy  of  the 
community  by  foolishly  pretending  to  have  taken  a 
deadly  drug. 

I  was  called  one  night  to  see  a  young  inan  who  was 
supposed  to  have  become  suddenly  insane.  I  found  him 
in  an  open  lot  adjoining  his  father's  residence,  with  this 
histor}' : 

He  had  come  home  from  the  residence  of  a  most 
excellent  young  lady,  who  had  repeatedly  told  him  that 
she  could  not  marry  him.  On  this  night  she  had  em- 
phasized the  statement  and  had  succeeded  in  convincing 
him  that  she  was  in  earnest.  Feeling  provoked  in  some 
way  he  suddenly  swore  at  his  mother  and  then  informed 


266 


Sham  Suicides. 


her  that  he  had  taken  poison,  and  when  the  father  arose 
to  go  after  me  the  young  man  drew  his  revolver  and 
fired  at  him.  He  then  retreated  into  this  open  lot 
where  he  remained  in  seeming  great  agony,  but  kept 
every  body  at  bay  with  a  revolver. 

I  found  an  excited  crowd  surrounding  this  lot,  par- 
leying with  the  young  man    and  trying   to  devise  ways 


I  MADE  THE  MOST  GALLANT  AND   HEROIC   CHARGE  OF  MY  LIFE. 

and  means  for  his  capture.  He  would  listen  to  nothing, 
but  kept  the  crowd  terrorized  by  occasionally  firing  over 
their  heads.  Lariating  him  was  suggested,  forming  a 
company  of  cavalry  and  riding  him  down,  etc.,  etc. 

During  all  this  time  the  young  man  seemed  m  great 
agony — doubling  up  and   groaning,  lying  down  and  roll- 


Sham  Suicides.  267 

ing  and  eating  ice  and  snow  which  he  scraped  up  with 
an  oyster  can.  I  finally  said  that  if  the  crowd  would 
attract  his  attention  I  would  go  around  the  back  way 
and  charge  him  from  the  rear.  This  I  did,  making  the 
most  gallant  and  heroic  charge  of  my  life,  as  I  then  sup- 
posed, to  save  an  erring  fellow  mortal.  He  heard  me, 
however,  fired  at  me  as  I  came  and  then  arose  to  a  knee 
and  hand  posture.  I  fell  over  him  and  sprained  my 
ankle  and  hip.  He  got  up  first  and  seizing  my  "  plug  " 
hat  which  had  fallen  in  the  fray,  he  cast  it  up  and  neatly 
put  a  bullet  hole  in  it  while  I  was  getting  up.  I  got  my 
perforated  plug  and  made  a  hasty  retreat.  I  then  be- 
came satisfied  that  he  was  shamming.  A  few  minutes 
afterward  he  assumed  a  sitting  posture  and  raising  his 
left  arm  he  pointed  his  pistol  diagonally  across  his 
breast  and  fired;  the  bullet  perforating  the  uplifted  outer 
border  of  his  left  pectoralis  major  muscle. 

He  was  quickly  carried  to  the  house  and,  upon 
close  examination,  I  decided  that  he  had  taken  nothing. 
He  at  once  inquired  for  the  3'oung  lady.  That  settled 
it.  He  continued  his  threats  to  the  family,  however,  and 
the  father  turned  the  case  over  to  me  to  deal  with  as  I 
thought  best.  I  put  him  in  jail  without  a  warrant  "  in 
one  time  and  three  motions."  Twenty-four  hours  made 
him  as  docile  as  an  Alderney  heifer,  and,  upon  his  prom- 
ising to  behave,  I  let  him  out.  He  left  the  countr)% 
married  another  girl,  and  did  well. 

Sitting  in  a  drug  store  one  Sunday  afternoon  a 
branch  water  man  came  in  looking  for  a  doctor.  The 
druggist   directed  him  to  me.     He  represented  the  ex- 


268  Sham  Suicides. 

treme  type  of  the  branch  water  man.  He  looked  as  if 
he  had  just  bought  a  complete  outfit  from  a  rag  man. 
His  hat  was  greasy,  old  and  torn  and  his  trousers  sagged 
miserably  at  the  base.  He  was  unacquainted  with  soap 
and  an  entire  stranger  to  disinfectants. 

He  informed  me  that  he  wanted  me  to  2:0  and  see  a 
sick  man  at  the  "Junction  House  "  just  as  quick  as  I 
could  "git  thar."  I  inquired  as  to  the  man's  symptoms. 
He  didn't  know  anything  except  that  the  man  was  "  awful 
sick."  I  further  insisted  and  informed  him  that  I  might 
want  to  take  something  with  me. 

'  Well,''  said  he,  at  last,  and  as  if  he  was  being 
compelled  to  divulge  a  lodge  secret,  "  ef  I  must  tell  3'ou, 
they  say  he  tuck  assnic." 

"  How  much  arsenic  did  he  take  ?" 

"  Well,  they  say  he  tuck  a  half  pint." 

I  informed  him  that  if  his  friend  had  taken  a  half 
pint  of  this  deadly  drug  I  thought  he  would  be  ready 
for  the  compost  heap  in  a  short  time.  I  instinctively 
knew,  however,  that  the  man  had  done  no  such  thing. 
The  "Junction  House  "  was  a  regular  hive  for  this  class 
of  people  and  I  never  knew  one  of  them  to  commit  sui- 
cide in  my  life.     It  is  a  pity  they  do  not. 

Reaching  the  house  1  found  the  lower  halls  and 
stairways  lined  with  women  and  children.  Entering  the 
room  I  found  it  full  of  worthless  men,  and  "  Nat,  the  fid- 
dler "  on  a  rickety  bed.  As  soon  as  he  saw  me  he 
arose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  blaring  his  eyes  and 
throwing  his  hands  up  and  down  he  uttered  an  "  0(*-ah, 
oo-ah,   00-ah,   00-ah."     Two   men    jumped   on   him   and 


Sham  vSuicidhs.  269 

bore  him,  by  main  strength,  to  the  bed  and  there  held 
him  tight  and  fast. 

I  interfered  and  ordered  them  to  let  him  alone. 

"  Wh}',"  said  one,  "  ef  we  don't  hold  him  hell  butt 
his  brains  out.'' 

"Let  him  butt  them  out,"  said  I,  "he  don't  need 
them." 

If  hj'sterical  men  and  women,  who  are  putting  on 
airs,  were  left  alone  they  would  soon  subside  ;  but,  it 
seems  that  there  never  was  a  man  who  acted  the  fool 
who  didn't  have  a  fool  to  hold  him.  And  the  same  may 
be  said  of  women. 

I  learned,  incidentally,  that  Nat  had  recently  gone 
away  with  a  newly  organized  variety  show,  in  which  a 
young  woman,  noted  more  for  the  scantiness  rather  than 
the  richness  of  her  apparel,  was  the  principle  attraction. 
Nat  went  along  to  furnish  the  music.  The  company 
had  taken  in  about  four  towns  vv^hen  it  collapsed.  This 
left  Nat  with  his  violin  high  and  dry,  without  a  cent  and 
ninety  miles  from  home.  He  pawned  his  fiddle  and  coat 
for  victuals.  He  got  a  "  tie  pass  "  and  when  he  reached 
home  found  another  fellow  occupying  his  place  in  his 
household  ;  and  his  wife,  feeling  that  Nat  had  been  too 
much  of  a  worshipper  at  the  feet  of  Bessie  (she  of  the 
scanty  apparel)  refused  to  permit  him  to  enter.  Nat 
beat  about  the  bush  and  "  slept  with  the  out-hogs  "  for  a 
few  days  and  then  went  on  a  spree. 

This  pretended  attempt  to  take  poison  was  the 
result  of  the  spree. 

The  newspapers  wrote  hun  up  in  good  style,  basing 


270  Sham  Suicides. 

their  strictures  of  his  conduct  upon  my  statement  that  it 
was  not  poison.  Nat  went  to  the  office  and  tried  to 
convince  the  editor  that  he  had  taken  poison.  I  then 
had  the  paper  state  that  Nat  had  the  same  reasons  for 
committing  suicide  now  that  he  had  before  with  the 
additional  reason  that  a  majorit}'  of  the  people  in  town 
thought  that  he  had  made  an  ass  of  himself ;  that  I  had 
ten  grains  of  strychnia  weighed  out  which  I  would  give 
him  upon  application,  and  would  agree  to  lock  the  doors 
and  keep  everybody  out  until  it  acted. 

He  didn't  come  and  get  it. 

It  may  be  said  that  a  physician  should  not  expose 
a  patient  under  such  circumstances. 

Under  some  circumstances,  no;  under  others,  yes. 
When  a  certain  kmd  of  men  and  women  try  to  play  a 
sensational  role  and  lacerate  the  feelings  of  a  sensitive 
and  kind  hearted  people  by  a  pretense  and  a  fraud,  then 
1  think  that  no  good  and  honorable  physician  is  bound  to 
lend  himself  or  become  a  party  to  such  frauds.  Let  the 
truth  come  and  hit  them  hard. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  detect  these  frauds,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing.  Any  physician  ought  to  know  that  a  poison 
which  is  so  deadly  and  instantaneous  in  its  effects  as  to 
cause  the  patient  to  fall  down  immediately  after  swal- 
lowing it,  should  kill  at  once,  and  before  he  could  possi- 
bly reach  the  patient.  Again,  a  poison  which  affects  the 
general  system  so  suddenly  and  so  seriously  should  put 
almost  every  muscle  in  the  body  In  a  state  of  semi-paral- 
3'sis.  In  such  a  case  the  e3'es  would  be  open  or  partl}^ 
open.     In  most  cases  the  pupils  should  be  affected — 


Sham  Suicides.  271 

either  dilated  or  contracted.  The  pulse  should,  as  a 
rule,  be  weak  and  rapid.  In  many  cases  there  should 
be  vomiting  or  retching.  It  is  a'so  important  to  know 
whether  the  patient  fell  on  a  bed  or  lounge,  or  on  the 
floor  or  ground.  Real  suicides  do  not  choose  soft  places 
on  which  to  fall. 

If  the  patient  is  pretending  he  or  she  will,  almost 
surely,  shut  the  eyes  very  tight  and  when  the  physician 
attempts  to  open  them  for  inspection,  there  will  be  vol- 
untary mzisczila^^  i^esistmice. 

Now,  with  close-shut  eyes,  pulse  at  seventy  or 
eighty,  no  dilatation  or  contraction  of  the  pupils,  the  ex- 
tremities warm  and  the  addition  of  a  motive  for  this  kind 
of  acting  f  if  you  can  get  at  the  motive)  3'ou  may  rely 
on  it  that,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  you  will  be  safe  m 
saying  that  the  patient  has  taken  nothing  that  will  kill 
her.  It  may  not  always  be  best  to  say  that  the  Datient 
is  pretending,  and  this  more  especially  in  the  case  of 
young  girls.  It  is  not  necessary  to  tell  the  crowd  any- 
thing, except  that  she  will  not  die.  But,  do  not  hesitate 
to  tell  her  parents ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  girl  will  consent 
to  talk,  make  her  understand  that  you  are  not  deceived 
— for  she  will  respect  you  the  more  when  she  knows 
that  you  are  not.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place  in  such 
cases  to  deliver  a  kind,  but  firm  lecture  to  the  young 
woman  regarding  the  wickedness  and  foolishness  of  her 
conduct.     If  done  right  it  will  do  good. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES. 


GENERAL  OBSERVATIONS  ON  LYING — CLASSIFICATION  OP 
LIARS — BILL  WHITTINGTON  AND  A  SAMPLE  OF  HIS  LIES — SIM'S 
UNFAIR  TRICK — THE  STORY  OF  THE  BULLIES — JACK,  THE  BAR- 
BER, AND  RAFFERTY'S  FUNERAL — A  GREAT  SHOT  AND  A  FAST 
TROTTER — DO  DOCTORS  LIE?  SEVERAL  SAMPLES  WHICH  AN- 
SWER THE  QUESTIOxN — AX  ASYLUM  FOR   LIARS. 

T  is  a  puzzling  thing,  to  any  one 
who  has  studied  humanity  to  any 
extent,  that  there  are  so  many  liars 
If  in  the  world.  Children  are  taught  in 
ff  school  that  "  truth  is  mighty  and  will 
i  prevail;"  that  lying  is  sinful  and  that 
his  Satanic  Majesty — the  engineer  and 
fireman  who  runs  the  heating  and  dry- 
ing department  in  the  basement  of  the 
Hereatter — is  the  father  of  liars.  Not- 
withstanding this  the  world  is  just  swarming  with  liars 
all  the  time.  We  are  a  nation  of  liars,  and  I  had  about 
concluded  that  we  were  the  only  nation  in  existence  that 
enjoyed  this  unenviable  distinction,  until  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  many  people  of  other  climes,  and  then  I 
changed  my  mind.  All  nations  have  their  liars  and 
many  of  them. 

It  is  curious  to  note  the    reasons    and  motives  that 
men    have  for  lying.     One   man   will    tell  a  lie  from  a 


lyiARS  AND  Their  IvIES.  27^ 

inotive  and  a  standpoint  that  will  make  his  neighbor 
ashamed,  and  yet  that  neighbor  will  turn  around  and 
tell  a  lie  from  some  other  motive  and  never  feel  ashamed 
at  all 

Women  are  not  great  liars.  That  is,  the  propor- 
tion of  women  who  lie  is  not  as  great  as  that  which  per- 
tains to  the  male  population.  Women  are  more  refined, 
and  more  timid — many  of  them  are  afraid  to  lie,  and  yet 
when  a  woman  does  lie  she  makes  it  count.  She  means 
to  hurt  some  one  and  the  chances  are  that  she  will. 

Did  you  ever  note  the  different  kinds  of  liars  ?  Here 
are  some  of  them  : 

The  accidental  liar  is  a  man  who  tells  a  lie  because 
he  forgets  the  truth.  He  is  telling  a  story  or  relating  a 
circumstance  and,  suddenly,  his  memory  fails  him  on  a 
given  point.  There  is  a  gap  that  must  be  filled  or  the 
story  is  ruined.  He  goes  to  work  at  once  and  fills  it 
with  something  larger  than  the  thing  he  forgot.  A  lie 
is  generally  bigger  than  the  truth  ;  that  is,  it  seems  big- 
ger, or,  in  other  words,  a  lie  about  a  given  thing  is  big- 
ger than  the  truth  is  about  the  same  matter. 

Then  we  have  the  malicious  liar.  He  or  she  is  the 
fellow  or  fellowess  who  tells  a  lie  to  injure  some  one's 
reputation.  Fortunately  for  the  world  there  are  not 
many  of  them.  It  is  a  rare  thing  that  any  man  or 
woman  invents  a  lie,  "  out  of  whole  cloth  "  for  the  pur- 
pose of  injuring  another.  But  it  is  done,  and  sometimes 
with  success.  If  a  woman  lies — and  she  does  not  often 
do  so,  God  bless  her! — she  is  more  apt  to  be  a  malicious* 


274  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

liar  than  is  a  man.  Some  of  the  most  hurtful  Hes  I  have 
ever  encountered  have  been  told  by  women. 

Then  we  have  the  selfish  liar.  He  tells  lies  for 
selfish  reasons.  He  does  not  wish  to  hurt  others,  but  he 
desires  to  help  himself  along  in  the  world.  He  will  lie 
about  business  matters;  he  will  lie  about  politics;  he 
will  lie  about  anything  that  will  give  him  pennies  or 
position.  He  may  be  a  good  fellow,  but  he  is  greedy 
and  craving,  and  just  throws  in  a  lie  now  and  then  to 
help  himself  along  and  keep  things  moving. 

The  boasting  liar  is  the  most  numerous  and  the 
least  harmful  of  the  lot.  This  is  the  fellow  who  has 
done  such  wonderful  things  in  his  time,  and  has  seen 
such  miraculous  performances  "  back  yonder,  where  I 
came  from."  He  has  worked  at  everything  and  done 
some  things  in  all  trades  and  lines  of  business,  and  has 
alwavs  excelled  and  startled  his  friends  with  his  superior 
skill  and  tact,  and  yet  he  is  poor.  I  have  sat  down  and 
heard  these  fellows  tell  of  the  different  trades  they  have 
worked  at  and  the  different  lines  of  business  they  had 
been  in,  and  the  number  of  years  they  had  followed  each 
one  and  have  quietly  taken  down  the  number  of  these 
years,  and  I  have  then  gone  off  and  added  the  figures 
too-ether  and  found  that  the  man  was,  by  his  own  admis- 
sion, at  least  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  years  old.  In 
the  presence  of  the  boasting  liar  you  can  not  speak  of  a 
dog  fight,  a  big  fish,  a  strong  man,  or  a  big  tree  without 
the  fear  of  hearing  one  of  his  lies.  It  does  no  good  to 
protest  against  the  lies  of  this  fellow,  for,  if  you  do  so, 
you  only  put  him  to  the    trouble    of   going  through  the 


LriARS  AND  Their  IvIES.  275 

form  of  swearing  to  them  without  the  notary.  The  re- 
deeming feature  of  this  man  is  that  he  is  nearly  always 
a  pleasant  man  in  his  profession  of  champion  liar.  You 
may  go  to  work  and  make  up  as  big  a  lie  as  you  please 
— ^just  concoct  a  "  whopper,"  in  order  to  beat  him  and 
he  will  sit  and  listen  to  you  with  all  the  patience  of  an 
attentive  and  interested  auditor — never  indicating  by 
sign,  word  or  look  that  he  does  not  believe  you.  Nor 
does  he  interrupt  you,  and  when  3^ou  are  done  he  will 
ask  you  for  a  chew  of  tobacco,  clear  his  throat,  change 
his  position  a  little,  and  smile — then  say :  "  That  re- 
minds me." 

Now  you  may  look  out.  He  has  been  pleasant 
and  deferential  to  you.  He  expects  the  same  treat- 
ment from  you.  You  may  now  prepare  for  defeat,  for 
the  boasting  liar  will  never  suffer  defeat  so  long  as  he 
can  get  to  tell  the  last  story.  Strange  to  say,  the  boast- 
ing liar  tells  many  of  his  lies  antil  there  is  no  doubt  that 
he  finally  believes  them  himself.  This  liar  has  his  stock 
in  trade  which  he  retails — and  wholesales  if  occasion  re- 
quires— at  all  times,  but  he  will  invent  a  special  lie  for  a 
special  occasion.  He  will  invent  a  lie  this  way  and,  per- 
haps, never  tell  it  again. 

For  instance,  I  was  in  a  group  of  gentlemen  once 
and  the  subject  of  the  conversation  was  the  curious 
results  of  wounds — of  men  wounded  so  seriously  that  it 
would  seem  they  must  die,  and  yet  they  would  get 
well ;  and  of  others  wounded  so  slightly  it  seemed 
scarcely  worthy  of  attention  and  yet  they  would  die. 
As  an  illustration  I  gave  an  instance  of    a  Federal  Cap 


276  lyiARS  AND  Their  Lies 

tain  who  was  shot  through  the  right  lung  with  a  grape 
shot  at  the  battle  of  Lexington,  Mo.,  and  who  recovered, 
and  of  another  man  who  got  a  small  pistol  ball  in  the 
wrist  and  died,  "and,"  I  added,  "the  extremes  are  even 
greater  than  this,  for  men  have  died  from  getting  a 
tomato  seed  in  the  api)endix  vermiformis.''''  There  was 
a  man  standing  by  whom  I  had  never  seen,  and  whom  I 
would  not  have  judged  to  be  a  liar,  who  spoke  up  and 
said, 

"  Yes,  stranger,  it  is  just  as  you  say.  It  is  queer 
how  those  fellows  will  get  well  after  such  serious  acci- 
dents. Now  I  was  standing  in  our  town  (it  was  the  cap- 
ital of  his  state)  talking  to  some  gentlemen  once.  There 
was  a  fellow  painting  the  roof  of  a  five  stor}-  building 
just  across  the  way  and  we  were  watching  him.  All  of 
a  sudden  his  foot  slipped  and  he  skeeted  off  that  roof 
and  came  toward  the  side-walk  like  a  flying  squirrel. 
When  he  struck  on  the  hard  granite  you  could  have 
heard  it  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  We  all  rushed  to  his  assist- 
ance but  before  we  could  reach  him  he  got  up  and 
shook  himself,  climbed  back  up  the  ladder  and  went  to 
paintmg  again.  He  >vouldn't  even  stop  to  tell  us  how 
he  felt.^' 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  the  little 
crowd  quietly  dispersed.  They  were  all  good  Christian 
men  and  no  one  struck  him.  I  really  believe  the  fellow 
thought  I  was  King  about  the  grape  shot  and  the  tomato 
seed  and  was  trying  to  "  lay  over  me.'' 

I  knew  one  of  those  fellows  once  amongst  the 
western  pioneers.      He  was   a  branch   water  man.     He 


I^iARS  AND  Their  Lies. 


277 


lived  in  a  cabin  that  would  have  made  a  Digger  Indian 
ashamed  of  himself,  and  if  he  ever  worked  any  nobody 
knew  when  he  did  it.  Yet,  with  the  aid  of  his  rifle  and 
his  wife  he  lived,  and  was  one  of  the  happiest  mortals  I 
ever  knew.  His  wife  wove  and  spun  the  wearing  apparel 
of  the  family  and  she  generally  managed  to  get  her  jeans 
out  in  the  spring — being  five  months  late — and  her 
home  made  linen  in   the  autumn,  so  that  Bill  (his  name 

was  Bill 
Whitting- 
ton)  always 
wore  his  lin- 
en through 
the  winter 
and  his 
white  un- 
dyed  jeans 
in  the  sum 
mer  The 
shifts  that 
f  a  m  i  1  y 
would  make 
as  to  clothes 
Bill  had  a  grown  son,  and  one  winter, 
I  remember,  he  was  not  able  to  buy  but  one  pair  of 
men's  shoes.  So  he  and  his  son  each  took  a  shoe  and 
tied  up  the  other  foot  and  went  lame  all  winter  Bill 
was  lame  in  his  left  foot  and  his  son  in  the  right. 

Bill  was   not  accomplished  in  but  one  Industry  and 
that  was  lying.     He  hunted  a  little — just  enough  to  keep 


BII.L  WAS  LAME  IN  HIS   LEFT   FOOT  AND  HIS  SON 
IN  THE  RIGHT. 

was  remarkable 


278  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

the  family  in  meat  and  to  take  a  deer  skin  to  "  the 
store  "  occasionally  to  get  some  article  of  family  neces- 
sity He  had  really  never  done  anything  but  lie  and 
hunt  in  his  life,  3'et  he  would  tell  of  the  most  marvelous 
things  that  he  had  done.  He  had  been  a  merchant,  a 
steam  boat  captain,  a  Mississippi  pilot,  an  architect  and 
buildei — in  short,  almost  everything.  He  would  sit 
down  and  tell  with  the  most  astonishing  gravity  about 
having  built  a  house  for  a  wealthy  friend  in  the  state 
from  which  he  came.  The  man  had  unlimited  wealth 
and  just  gave  him  carte  blanche  for  materials  without 
regard  to  cost  When  Bill  finished  the  house,  in  which 
there  were  twenty-five  rooms,  it  was  a  marvel  of  perfec- 
tior  and  beauty  The  wood-work  could  be  used  for 
mirrors  and  the  floors  were  polished  so  that  they  reflect- 
ed the  walls  and  all  that  hung  upon  them. 

The  fellov/  couldn't  put  a  papaw  handle  in  a  gar- 
den hoe  and  do  it  well.  Bill  would  sit  up  and  tell  these 
stories  ir  the  presence  of  his  wife  (who  had  known  him 
from  his  childhood)  and  never  smile. 

The  subject  of  wells  was  mentioned  once.  Some 
one  spoke  of  a  very  deep  well  which  he  had  seen. 
This  was  a  "  starter  "  for  Bill.  He  said  the  deepest  well 
he  ever  saw  was  dug  by  himself  and  his  brother  "  back 
yonder  where  I  came  from."  A  man  had  hired  them  to 
dig  a  well  during  a  dry  year,  when  the  water  was  scarce, 
ana  had  agreed  to  pay  them  so  much  per  foot  until 
water  was  struck.  They  started  in  and  dug  and  dug, 
and  yet  no  water.  The}  put  in  better  hoisting  machin- 
ery and  continued  to  dig,  but   still  no   moisture.     Aftei 


Liars  and  Their  Lies.  279 

several  months'  work  they  got  so  deep  that  it  consumed 
a  great  portion  of  their  time  in  going  down  of  mornings 
and  coming  up  at  night.  Then  they  arranged  to  remain 
in  the  well  day  and  night  and  had  their  provisions  let 
down  to  them  by  the  returning  tubs  which  hauled  up  the 
dirt.  They  had  a  convenient  arrangement  of  ropes, 
bells  and  signals  b}'  which  they  made  all  their  wants 
known  to  those  working  on  the  outside. 

"After  we  had  been  in  thar  for  several  months,'' 
said  Bill,  "  we  was  workm'  along  one  afternoon — I  guess 
it  must  have  been  about  three  o'clock — and  all  at  once 
when  I  struck  my  pick  in  the  bottom  it  sounded  holler 
I  spoke  to  my  brother  about  it  and  he  tried  it,  and,  sure 
enough,  it  sounded  holler  agin.  We  thought  we  was  a 
comin'  to  a  river  and  so  we  got  down  and  listened  and 
what  do  you  reckon  we  heard  ?'' 

"  Running  water,"  said  everybody. 

"  No,  sir!"  said  Bill,  "  No,  sir!  I  wish  it  had  a  been; 
but,  Tm  dad  blasted  if  we  didn't  hear  people  a  talking 
on  the  other  side  of  the  yeth." 

"What  were  they  saying,  Bill?" 

"  How  could  I  tell  ?  They  wasn't  like  us,  and  was  a 
taikin',  some  sort  of  outlandish  jingle.' 

"  Well,  you  dug  right  through  on  to  them,  did  you, 
Bill?" 

"  No  siree.  You  wouldn't  ketch  me  doing  no  big 
fool  thing  like  that.  I  couldn't  understand  a  word  they 
said,  but  I  could  tell  by  the  way  they  was  a  ravin'  around 
that  they  was  all-lired  mad  about  somethin'  and  I  didn't 


28o  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

want  to  drop  down  on  'em  when  they  was  mad.  They 
might  a  killed  a  feller." 

"No  sir.  We  just  pulled  the  rope  that  rung  the 
bell  for  'em  to  haul  us  up  and  they  did.  It  took  an  aw- 
ful long  time  though  for  'em  to  get  us  up." 

"  What  did  the  man  do  with  the  well,  Bill.?" 

''  Filled  it  up^  of  course.  Me  and  my  brother  got 
the  job  and  made  a  lot  of  money  out  of  it ;  for  you  can 
just  bet  they  was  acres  of  dirt  piled  around  thar." 

I  never  knew  Bill  to  get  beaten  at  his  own  game 
but  once  and  then  a  mean  advantage  was  taken  of  him. 
He  had  a  neighbor  named  Sim — something.  Sim  was 
industrious  but  full  of  fun  and  mischief.  He  and  a 
neighbor  were  "swapping  work"  in  corn  planting  time. 
On  this  particular  occasion  the  neighbor  was  over  at 
Sim's  helpmg  him  put  in  his  corn.  Bill  Whittington 
had  a  habit  of  going  around  where  his  neighbors  were  at 
work  and  detaining  and  entertaining  them  with  his  lies. 
Along  in  the  afternoon  as  Sim  and  his  neighbor  came  to 
the  end  of  the  row  whom  should  they  see  but  Bill,  sitting 
on  the  fence.?  They  had  been  pushing  things  all  day 
and  were  tired,  so  they  sat  down  for  awhile  and  Bill  at 
once  began  to  tell  lies.  The  subject  of  strong  men — 
great  fighters  and  wrestlers — happened  to  be  the  theme. 
Bill  had  told  of  some  marvelous  feats  of  strength  per- 
formed b}'  himself,  his  brother  or  some  relative. 

"  I  have  seen  stronger  men  than  that,"  remarked 
Sim. 

"  You  have?"  said  Bill  in  surprise,  "what  did  they 
do?" 


IviARs  AND  Their  I^ies.  281 

"  It  was  in  Kentucky,"  Sim  began,  "  when  I  was 
growing  up.  There  was  a  man  in  our  county  that  they 
called  "  the  bully."  He  had  thrown  down  and  whipped 
every  man  who  laid  any  claims  to  strength  in  our  county. 
He  was  "  the  bully  "  of  the  county  and  no  man  lived 
there  who  dared  to  meet  him.  There  was  just  such 
another  man  in  the  second  county  from  us.  He  had 
cleaned  out  everybody  in  his  county.  The  friends  of 
those  two  bullies  had  been  at  work  for  a  long  time  tr}-- 
ing  to  arrange  a  "  pitched  battle  ''  between  them.  At 
last  they  got  it  arranged  and  the  day  set  for  the  two 
men  to  meet  in  the  county  that  intervened.  They  were 
to  meet  at  the  county  seat  on  a  certain  da}'  and  the 
thing  got  advertised  all  over  the  country  for  several 
counties  around.  Expectation  was  on  tiptoe  and  every- 
body was  going  to  see  the  fight.  All  the  male  popula- 
tion of  our  county  went  over  to  back  our  man.  They 
arrived  at  the  town  where  the  fight  was  to  take  place 
the  evening  before  and  camped  out.  The  other  fellow 
and  his  county  men  camped  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
town  and  the  people  from  other  counties  were  camped 
all  around  for  two  or  three  miles.  It  was  like  a  big 
army.  Oh,  there  was  an  awful  lot  of  excitement.  Ev- 
erybody was  up  and  had  breakfast  bright  and  early  so 
as  to  get  into  town  and  get  a  good  place  where  the  fight 
was  to  be.  The  time  was  arranged  when  both  should 
start  into  town  so  that  they  should  meet  at  the  Court 
House  about  the  same  time.  Our  man  took  the  lead 
and  walked  into  town  and  our  whole  county  followed 
him.     The  other  did  the  same.     As  they  went  in  our 


282 


Liars  and  Their  Lies. 


man  began  to  bellow  like  a  bull  and  the  other  fellow 
heard  him.  Then  you  ought  to  have  heard  the  other 
fellow  bellow.  Why  it  just  cracked  the  window  lights. 
That  made  our  man  mad  and  then  you  may  just  reckon 
that  he  did  bellow.  The  chimneys  began  to  fall  down. 
When  the  other  fellow  heard  him  he  was  just  opposite 
where  an  old  mill  had  burned  down  and  the  mill  stones 


'AND  THREW  HIM  CLEAR  OVER  THE  COURT  HOUSE. 

were  lying  there.  He  was  so  mad  that  he  just  grabbed 
a  mill  stone  in  each  hand  and  came  up  to  the  Public 
Square  knocking  them  together  over  his  head.  His 
men  were  yelling  and  our  fellows  began  to  feel  bad. 
Just  then  our  man  came  up  to  where  a  farmer  was  ex- 


Liars  and  Their  Lies.  283 

hibiting  an  imported  English  bull  that  weighed  twenty- 
one  hundred  pounds.  He  had  seen  the  other  fellow 
knocking  the  mill  stones  over  his  head  and  he  was  roar- 
ing mad.  He  jumped  at  this  bull  and  before  anybody 
had  time  to  think  he  grabbed  him  by  the  tail  and  just 
jerked  him  up  and  swung  him  around  his  head  three  or 
four  times  and  threw  him  clear  over  the  court  house 
and  knocked  off  the  second  story  of  a  saloon  on  the 
other  side." 

Then  Sim  paused. 

Bill  had  been  listening  with  rapt  attention  all  the 
time,  and  you  couldn^t  have  told  b}-  an}'  movement,  nod 
or  gesture  that  he  made,  but  what  he  really  believed  it 
all.  This  is  the  courtesy  that  a  big  liar  always  pays 
another  big  liar.  Sim  stood  up  and  didn't  seem  to  be 
going  on  with  the  story.     Bill  grew  anxious,  and  asked, 

"  What  did  they  do  then,  Sim?'' 

"  Well,  a  mule  got  between  them  and  me  just  then 
and  I  couldn't  see  'em,"  said  Sim.  "  Git  up  Ball,"  said 
he  to  his  old  horse  and  away  he  went  across  the  field 
"  laying  off  ''  his  furrow. 

They  left  Bill  sitting  in  the  corner  of  the  fence 
almost  paralyzed  with  surprise.  In  all  his  lying  life  no 
man  had  ever  treated  him  so  before. 

After  a  while  he  seemed  to  recover  a  little  and  he 
slowly  got  up  from  his  sitting  position.  He  climbed  on 
the  fence  m  a  bewildered  sort  of  stagger;  then  looked 
wistfully  after  Sim  and  the  neighbor  for  a  moment,  slid 
off    the   fence  and    went   shambling  away.     He  was  so 


284  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

disgusted  that  he  actually  absented  himself  from  society 
for  two  weeks. 

We  meet  this  kind  of  man  everywhere,  and  he  is 
not  confined  to  an}^  particular  stratum  in  society. 

There  used  to  be  a  barber  in  the  town  where  I  lived 
who  was  one  of  the  worst  of  the  boasting  liars  that  I  ever 
met.  His  name  was  Jack.  Jack  used  to  soothe  me  with  his 
marvelous  lies  while  shaving  me.  Jack  had  one  abiding 
weakness  besides  his  lying  and  that  was  that  he  har- 
bored the  delusion  that  he  had  once  been  a  government 
scout,  a  detective  and  finally  a  Chicago  policeman.  He 
had  been  three  times  captured  by  the  Confederates  dur 
ing  the  late  war  (it  is  doubtful  whether  he  was  ni  the 
war  at  all),  had  been  tried,  condemned  to  be  shot — the 
hour  set.  Each  time,  by  some  marvelous  interposition 
or  some  shrewd  act  of  his  own,  he  had  escaped.  I  used 
to  listen  with  a  great  deal  of  quiet  attention  to  Jack's 
lies  and,  occasionally  put  in  a  question  which  would 
compel  Jack  to  tell  more  lies  which  he  used  as  a  sort  of 
"rip-rap  ''  to  preserve  the  foundation  of  the  original  lie. 
I  used  to  speak  of  Jack's  wonderful  lies  in  the  presence 
of  my  little  boys,  until  one  of  them  conceived  a  desire  to 
hear  Jack  in  his  great  I'ole,  I  took  him  down  with  me 
one  afternoon  when  I  was  sfoingr  to  be  shaved.  He 
pulled  up  a  chair  near  where  I  sat  while  being  shaved 
and  seemed  to  take  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  watching 
Jack  work. 

I  knew  how  to  set  Jack  off.  It  was  much  easier 
than  work  I  had  to  do  every  da}'.  All  I  had  to  do  was 
to  make  a  remark,  a  suggestion,  or  ask  a  question. 


Liars  and  Their  Lies.  285 

There  was  a  funeral  procession  passing  the  shop 
and  I  remarked  that  Judge  So-and-so  was  having  a  very 
largely  attended  funeral.  I  knew  that  would  be  suffi- 
cient and  so  it  proved  to  be. 

''Large!''  said  Jack,  in  astonishment.  "Do  you 
call  that  a  laree  funeral  ?"" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  that  is  quite  a  large  funeral  for 
this  town," — and  so  it  was 

"  Oh,  but  you  ought  to  have  seen  Rafferty's  funeral 
in  Chicago,"  said  Jack. 

Jack  was  getting  up  steam  and  the  machinery  was 
beginning  to  move.  It  would  only  take  a  few  questions 
to  set  him  running  in  good  style. 

Who  was  Rafferty.^  What  did  he  do  to  entitle  him 
to  such  a  remembrance.^ 

Jack  steadied  himself,  strapped  his  razor,  and  start 
ed  in. 

''  Rafferty  had  once  been  on  the  '  force '  but  had 
been  dismissed  for  drinking,  or  something  else,  and, 
while  he  was  very  brave  and  had  once  been  very  popu- 
lar, he  had  got  to  drinking  and  had  become  a  bad  and 
dangerous  man.  One  day  while  bordering  on  a  fit  of 
'  tremens  '  he  had  run  amuck  at  a  saloon  and  had  either 
stabbed  or  shot  two  or  three  men.  One  had  surely 
died  and  perhaps  two — I  forget  now,  but  Rafferty  made 
his  escape." 

Jack  continued : 

"  I  was  on  the  secret  force  at  the  time  and  the 
Chief  told  me  to  take  one  man  and  go  out  in  a  certain 
direction,  along  a  certain  line  of   railroad.     I  went  out 


286  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

about  four  miles  and  couldn''t  hear  anything  of  him.  I 
sat  down  on  the  end  of  a  tie  and  was  thinking  as  to  what 
I  should  do,  when  a  farmer's  wagon  came  along.  I 
asked  the  farmer  if  he  had  seen  such  a  man  as  Rafferty 
— describing  him.  The  farmer  said  that  he  hadn't  seen 
any  such  person;  but,  there  was  something  in  his  man- 
ner which,  to  my  experienced  e3'e,  made  me  suspicious.'' 

"  I  presume  that  a  person  like  me  would  never  have 
noticed  it,  would  he.  Jack. ^"  I  asked. 

"  Naw,"  said  Jack,  "  You'd  a  let  him  go ;  but,  I 
went  up  to  the  wagon  and  looked  in  and  there  lay  Raff- 
erty in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  bed.  As  soon  as  he 
saw  me  he  threw  up  his  hands  and  said: 

^' '  It's  all  right.  Jack,  old  boy  ;  I  give  up,  for  I  know 
it's  no  use  to  resist,  but  there  ain't  another  man  in  Chi- 
cago that  can  take  me.'  " 

''  He  would  have  resisted  me?"  I  suggested. 

"  Resisted  you!"  said  Jack  with  a  flavor  of  contempt 
in  his  voice,  "He  would  have  killed  you  before  you 
could  have  cocked  your  pistol." 

Thus  encouraged,  Jack  went  on: 

"  We  took  him  back  to  town  and  put  him  in  jail. 
There  was  an  awful  prejudice  against  him  among  a 
certain  class,  but  still  he  had  lots  of  friends.  He  lay  in 
in  jail  a  long  time.  Finally  his  case  came  up  to  trial. 
He  had  three  of  the  best  criminal  lawyers  of  Chicago 

for  his  counsel  with  Bill  O'B at  their  head.     They 

huno-  the  jury  and  there  was  a  long  wait  and  then  an 
other  trial  and  another  hung  jury.  This  was  repeated 
the  third  time  and  then  the  prosecuting  attorney  took  a 


IviARS  AND  Their  Lies.  287 

change  of  venue  to  Milwaukee,  Wisconsin.  There 
the  jury  found  him  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree. 
The  day  was  set  for  him  to  be  hung  and  they  brought 
him  back  to  Chicago  to  hang  him.  By  this  time  the 
popular  indignation  had  about  died  out  and  Rafferty's 
^riends  were  hot.  They  appealed  to  the  Governor,  but 
it  did  no  good.  They  finally  hung  him  and  the  day  was 
set  for  the  funeral.  There  were  seven  hundred  big 
carriages  and  eighteen  hundred  buggies  in  the  proces- 
sion." 

I  do  not  know  that  I  give  the  number  of  carriages 
and  buggies  just  as  Jack  gave  them,  but,  I  remember 
that  I  went  home  and,  with  the  assistance  of  my  little 
son,  figured  up  the  length  of  the  procession.  By 
assuming  that  each  team  and  vehicle  covered  a  certain 
number  of  feet,  and,  allowing  so  many  feet  between 
each,  it  made  the  procession  a  little  over  twent3^-seven 
miles  long.  At  the  ordinary  funeral  pace  it  would  have 
taken  the  procession  two  days  to  pass  a  given  point. 

"  Brush  here,"  3'elled  Jack,  and  he  no  doubt,  told 
equally  as  big  a  He  to  the  next  customer.  Jack  was  an 
artist. 

Every  grade  of  humanity — educated  and  uneducat- 
ed, rich  and  poor — has  its  liar.  The  boasting  lies  only 
seem  the  more  ridiculous  when  coming  from  a  man  like 
Bill  Whittington — the  branch  water  man — who  seems 
too  trifling  and  unimportant  to  do  any  of  the  things 
which  he  claims  to  have  done. 

I  was  called  to  see  the  family  of  a  wealthy  farmer 
once  with  whom  I  haa  only  a  slight  acquaintance  and  of 


288  lyiARS  AND  Their  L,ies. 

whom  I  had  heard  very  little.  I  remained  all  night. 
There  were  several  people  at  his  house  besides  the  fam- 
ily, and,  as  the  patient  was  resting  well  and  in  no  dan- 
ger, we  all  gathered  in  the  capacious  sitting  room  and 
talked  unreservedly  about  anything  and  everything  that 
came  up.  The  old  farmer  began  by  telling  about  his 
remarkable  shooting ;  of  how  he  had  "  taken  fellows 
down  "  who  came  out  from  the  city  to  shoot.  He  killed 
birds  on  the  wing  with  the  rifle  after  they  had  missed 
with  the  shot  gun,  and  had  put  twelve  shots  in  succes- 
sion, with  a  coitus  revolver,  through  an  inch  auger  hole, 
at  a  distance  of  forty  yards. 

Here  I  began  to  doubt.  The  subject  changed  to 
horses  and  the  question  of  trotters  and  fast  records  came 
up.  He  stated  positively  thajt  he  brought  a  colt  from 
Tennessee,  w^hen  he  came  to  Missouri^  which  he  trained 
himself,  and  which  trotted  a  mile  in  1.14.  This  was  at 
the  time  when  Dexter 's  2.171^^  was  the  fastest  recorded 
time.  I  was  posted  on  the  trotting  question,  and  so 
asked  the  old  gentleman  if  he  was  not  mistaken — wasn't 
it  3.14?      He  was  indignant  In  a  moment. 

'•  Don't  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about  ?  Didn't 
I  lay  the  line  that  measured  the  ground  ?  Didn't  I  hold 
the  watch  when  the  horse  made  the  record  ?" 

I  apologized  and  went  to  bed,  convinced  that  my 
new  patron  was  a  gifted,  able  and  monstrous  liar,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  best  of  husbands,  fathers  and  neigh- 
bors, however  inconsistent  this  statement  may  seem. 

"  Do  doctors  lie  ?"' 

Well,  yes,  occasionally.     That    is    to    say,    natural 


Liars  and  Their  Lies.  289 

liars  sometimes  study  medicine.  The  liar  gets  into  the 
medical  profession,  as  he  gets  into  all  professions  and 
trades.  Heaven  is,  perhaps,  the  only  place  where  the 
liar  can  not  enter,  and,  I  am  led  to  hope  that  some  of 
those  good  natured,  big  hearted  and  harmless  liars  may 
enter  even  there.  The  liar  spoken  of  in  the  scriptures 
ma}^  be  the  man  who  tells  lies  that  do  harm  and  make 
mischief. 

When  you  do  meet  a  doctor  who  is  a  liar  (and  I 
am  proud  to  say  that  a  somewhat  extended  and  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  profession  leads  me  to  the  declar- 
ation that  the  profession  of  medicine  has  as  few  liars  as 
any  other)  but,  I  was  about  to  say,  when  you  do  meet 
a  doctor  who  lies,  he  generally  takes  it  out  in  telling 
lies  about  the  wonderful  things  he  has  done  in  the  fields 
of  medicine  and  surgery. 

A  young  doctor  in  hunt  of  a  place  stopped  in  my 
town,  a  few  years  ago,  and  made  my  office  his  lounging 
place  for  a  week.  I  was  led  to  suspect,  from  "some 
statements  he  made,  that  he  was  probably  not  an  ardent 
devotee  of  the  truth;  but  as  our  acquaintance  was  short 
I  had  no  chance  to  verify  my  suspicions.  He  settled  in 
a  small  town  only  a  short  distance  from  me  and  only  a 
few  weeks  after  he  was  located  I  met  him  on  the  street 
in  my  town  in  a  slightly  intoxicated  condition.  I  asked 
him  how  he  was  getting  along  in  his  new  situation. 

"  Oh,  everything  is  booming.  No  trouble  at  all 
about  getting  practice;  had  a  couple  of  surgical  opera- 
tions a  week  ago  in  which  I  would  have  liked  to  have  had 
your  assistance,  but  didn't  have  time  to  send  for  you." 


290  Liars  and  Their  1  >ks. 

I  asked, 

"  What  were  the  operations?" 

"  One  was  a  disarticulation  at  the  hip  joint  and  the 
other  was  an  ovariotomy.  Both  cases  are  doing  well 
and  are  progressing  rapidly  toward  recover}'."" 

I  asked  him  who  assisted  him  and  he  answered, 

'•'  Two  old  women  in  both  cases." 

He  didii't  eve7i  oivn  an  amputating  case. 

He  lied  himself  out  of  that  town  m  just  nine  weeks. 

One  man,  who  was  otherwise  a  good  fellow,  told 
me  of  having  performed  the  Cesarean  Section  in  a  lonely 
cabin  without  professional  help,  at  midnight  and  with  no 
other  instruments  than  a  pocket  case,  and  saved  both 
mother  and  child.  He  would  not  even  open  an  ordinary 
boil,  nor  lance  a  felon,  and  yet  he  desired  to  be  consid- 
ered a  surgeon.  This  desire  to  be  a  surgeon  by  men 
who  do  not  know  anatomy  and  who  have  no  mechanical 
tact,  is  the  one  crowning  weakness  of  the  profession.  It 
is  better,  however,  never  to  attempt  a  grave  operation 
when  yoii  are  not  qualified,  and  just  take  it  out  in  lying 
about  it,  than  it  is  to  attempt  it,  do  a  bungling  job  and 
then  feel  compelled  to  lie  about  it.  There  is  a  choice 
even  in  the  kind  of  lies  a  man  ought  to  tell.  Lying  on 
the  safe  side  is  best. 

The  war  of  the  Rebellion  turned  out  a  great  many 
of  this  class  of  surgeons  at  its  close.  It  is  true  that 
there  were  many  good  surgeons  in  both  armies.  But 
there  were  a  great  many  who  learned  to  cut  off  arms, 
leers,  toes  and  finders — and  sometimes  cut  them  off  when 
they  might  have  been    saved,  I  fear — and  most  of  this 


lyiARs  AND  Their  Lies.  291 

class  came  home  full  fledged  surgeons — in  their  own 
minds.  I  remember  that  it  was  a  very  common  thing, 
just  after  the  war,  to  see  this  appended  to  a  doctor's 
card  or  newspaper  advertisement :  "  Special  attention 
given  to  surgery ;"  and  this  by  a  man  who  did  not  know 
a  lipoma  from  a  ca7^cinoma^  and  who  could  not  tell  the 
differential  diagnostic  signs  between  a  dislocation  at  the 
hip  joint  and  a  fracture  of  the  upper  third  of  the  thigh 
bone.  Some  of  these  men  did  a  great  deal  of  mischief 
in  their  surgical  pretensions,  and  it  has  taken  the 
twenty-five  years  that  have  elapsed  since  the  war  to 
demonstrate  in  many  such  cases  that  there  is  a  decided 
difference  between  a  butcher  and  a  sur^^eon. 

One  of  these  would-be  surgeons  told  me  once  that 
while  in  the  army,  and  just  after  a  battle,  he  came 
across  a  soldier  lying  on  the  road  side  and  bleeding  dan- 
gerously from  a  wound  about  the  face.  It  was  of  a 
character  that  satisfied  him  at  once  that  nothing-  less 
than  ligating  the  common  carotid  artery  would  do  any 
good.  He  was  without  assistance  of  any  kind;  but,  he 
got  down  and,  single-handed  and  alone,  without  help  or 
anaesthetics,  he  ligated  tlie  common  carotid.  He  sent 
some  soldiers  to  see  about  the  man  and  then,  in  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  important  duties,  forgot  the  case.  Six  days 
afterward  he  met  the  man  carrying  his  gun  and  doing 
duty. 

There  was  a  pause  at  this  point  in  the  story.  I 
suggested  that  the  appearance  of  the  atmosphere  indi- 
cated a  change  of  the  weather.  This  was  dangerous 
ground  too ;  for  I  was  really  afraid  that  he  would  tell  a 


292  Liars  and  Their  Lies. 

lie  about  the  weather.  But  he  didn't.  I  think  he  took 
the  hint,  however. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  office  a  few  years  ago  with  an 
old  physician  who  was  looking  for  a  location,  and  four 
other  gentlemen,  when  the  question  of  miwial  ligatures 
was  mentioned,  and  the  visiting  brother  told  the  follow- 
ing remarkable  story  : 

"  When  I  was  about  twenty-one  years  of  age  and 
just  out  of  school,  and,  before  I  studied  medicine,  I  man- 
ifested some  weakness  of  my  lungs.  Upon  the  advice 
of  our  family  physician  my  father  determined  to  send 
me  south.  In  order  to  make  the  expense  as  light  as 
possible  and  that  I  might  improve  the  faster,  he  pro- 
cured a  position  for  me  with  some  Government  survey- 
ors. I  improved  from  the  start  and  was  soon  strong 
and  hearty.  After  a  while  we  got  far  out  from  the 
settlements  about  one  hundred  miles  west  of  where  the 
city  of  Waco  now  stands.  One  day  a  companion  and  I 
were  out  hunting — he  being  on  foot  and  I  on  a  pon}'. 
We  became  separated  along  in  the  afternoon,  and, 
while  wandering  around  looking  for  game,  1  heard  the 
report  of  a  gun  about  four  hundred  yards  away.  I  gal- 
loped up  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  hill  in  the  direction 
of  the  sound.  When  I  reached  a  point  where  I  coulc 
command  a  view  of  the  surrounding  prairie  I  beheld  ni} 
comrade,  about  two  hundred  yards  away,  engaged  in  a 
hand  to  hand  fight  with  a  stalwart  Indian. 

I  put  my  horse  to  his  full  speed  and  went  toward 
them.  I  soon  took  in  the  situation.  They  had  met 
and  the  Indian   had   made   some   threatening  or  warlike 


Liars  and  Their  Lies.  293 

demonstration  and  had  drawn  my  comrade's  fire.  He 
had  fallen,  or  dodged  a  bad  shot,  and  had  then  attacked 
him  with  a  largfe  knife.  The  contest  which  I  witnessed 
consisted  simply  in  adroit  efforts  of  the  Indian  to  stab 
him  and  in  desperate  efforts  of  my  comrade  to  keep 
him  off  and  avoid  his  blows.  I  yelled  at  the  top  of  my 
voice  as  I  went  toward  them  and  the  Indian,  hearing 
me,  gave  a  last  desperate  lunge  at  him  and  then  ran 
away.     I  fired  at  him  as  he  ran,  but  missed  him. 

"  I  soon  saw  that  my  comrade  was  badly  cut,  and 
upon  examination  I  found  a  deep  cut  in  his  left  side, 
about  six  inches  in  length,  through  which  the  gashed 
intestines  were  protruding.  I  tried  to  put  him  on  the 
pony  but  he  was  too  weak  to  ride  alone.  I  then  tried 
to  get  him  up  before  me  but  could  not  do  it.  I  finally 
got  him  across  the  saddle  (head  on  one  side  and  heels 
on  the  other)  and  lashed  him  on  with  the  lariat.  I  led 
the  pony,  and  after  a  weary  tramp,  landed  him  in  the 
camp  about  three  miles  distant.  Arriving  there  a  con- 
sultation was  held.  As  we  were  so  far  from  civilization 
we  decided  to  send  to  a  Catholic  Mission  ninety  miles 
away  for  a  priest  who  had  learned  something  of  surgery 
while  preparing  for  the  office  of  a  Missionary  priest.  It 
was  our  only  hope,  for  we  had  no  idea  as  to  where  we 
could  find  a  surgeon.  Two  men  were  sent  on  foot  who 
were  instructed  to  do  most  of  their  traveling^  at  nieht 
and  their  sleeping  in  the  day  time  on  account  of  the 
Indians.  We  took  care  of  the  wounded  man — gave  him 
water,  fed  him  and  kept  the  flies  off  him,  as  best  we 
could,  while   the  bo3's  were  gone.     On  the   fourth  day 


294 


lyiARS  AND  Their  Lies. 


^.. 


they  returned  with  the  faithful  old  priest.  After  a  little 
rest  the  father  examined  the  wounded  man  and  then 
said  to  me, 

"  *  My  son,  go  down  to  the  dry  branch,  which  we 
crossed  as  we  came  here^  and  turn  over  the  flat  rocks, 
which  you  will  see  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  under 
these  rocks  you  will  find  a  o^reat  number  of  large  bugs 


beetle,  with 
horns;  gath- 
er a  num- 
ber of  those 
in  a  tin 
bucket  and 
bring  them 
to  me.'" 

"  I  did  as 
he  directed, 
fi  n  d  i  n  g  a 
great  num- 
ber of  large 
beetles  with 
large,  lat- 
eral horns  on  their  heads.  I  brought  him  several  dozen. 
B}'  the  time  I  returned  he  had  taken  a  cloth  and  warm 
water,  and  after  picking  the  grass  and  weeds  off  the 
wounded  man's  bowels,  had  washed  them  quite  clean. 
He  then  caught  up  the  wounded  intestine,  and,  instead  of 
trying  to  put  the  cut  edges  together  he  laid  the  two  s'des 
of    the  cut  intestine  side  by  side,  as  you  would  bring  the 


'he  threw  the  rig  end  away  and  reached 
for  another  bug." 


lyiARs  AND  Their  Lies.  295 

edges  of  3'Our  coat  sleeve  and  your  cuff  together.  He 
then  called  for  a  bug  and,  taking  it  gentl}'  by  the  body, 
he  straddled  the  two  horns  over  the  doubled  bowel. 
He  then  gave  the  bug  a  squeeze  which  irritated  it  and 
caused  it  to  clasp  its  horns  together.  The  horns  pene- 
trated the  bowel  from  side  to  side.  He  then,  by  a 
slight  twisting  motion,  wrung  the  bug  in  two  at  the 
small  part  of  its  waist,  threw  the  big  end  away  and 
reached  for  another  bug.  He  proceeded  in  the  same 
wa}' — putting  his  stitches  about  a  half  inch  apart — until 
he  had  closed  a  cut  in  the  splenic  flexure  of  the  colon 
about  four  inches  long.  He  then  returned  the  bowel 
and  closed  the  wound  in  the  abdominal  wall  with  flax 
thread  in  a  common  sewing  needle.  The  fellow  never 
had  a  bad  symptom  and  was  out  carrying  the  chain  in 
about  six  or  eight  weeks." 

A  profound  stillness  prevailed  after  this  story  was 
finished,  and  the  old  man  seemed  to  grow  restless  and  got 
up  and  went  out.  Silence  still  prevailed  until  he  was 
out  of  ear  shot,  when  all  looked  at  each  other  and  then 
burst   into    uncontrollable  laughter.     One    wittilv    suof- 

<-J  •/  o 

gested  that  whatever  else  might  be  claimed  for  the  story 
it  could  not  be  said  that  "  there  were  no  busfs  on  it." 

In  considering  the  subject  of  liars  it  has  occurred  to 
me  that  there  ought  to  be  an  asylum  or  a  reformatory 
for  them.  Why  not  ?  The  disposition  to  lie  is  evidently 
a  disease  with  some  men.  It  is  true  if  a  man  tells  a  lie 
iust  for  mischief  or  to  conceal  a  crime  then  we  can  see 
the  motive.  But  there  is  no  motive  in  the  boasting  liar's 
action.     I  have  seen  these  fellows  when  they  just  seemed 


296  C/iARS  AND  Their  Lies. 

to  lie  involuntarily.  Now,  if  we  could  have  a  reforma- 
tory for  these  men  great  good  might  be  done.  It  is 
true  it  seems  that  their  lying  does  little  or  no  harm. 
But  it  does  harm  to  the  liar.  No  matter  how  good  a 
fellow  the  boasting  liar  m.ay  be  (and  I  have  known  them 
to  possess  most  excellent  qualities  as  husbands,  fathers 
and  neighbors)  he  is  always  in  more  or  less  disgrace ; 
and,  besides  this,  he  may  transmit  it  to  his  offspring ; 
and  a  transmitted  diathesis,  or  tendency  may  be  made 
stronger  in  those  to  whom  it  is  transmitted  than  it  was 
in  the  transmitter,  and  these  tendencies  may  be,  and  are, 
modified,  no  doubt,  so  that  the  hereditary  liar  may  devel- 
op into  a  mischievous  and  harmful  liar. 

We  might  send  these  people  to  a  reformatory  and 
send  along  with  them  their  histories,  in  which  might  be 
included  some  of  their  most  prominent  and  unreasonable 
lies.  Classes  mig-ht  be  formed  of  the  different  kinds 
and  grades  of  liars;  and,  at  certain  hours  on  certain 
days,  one  class  could  be  assembled  for  a  lecture.  Here 
a  professor  of  Truth  could  lecture  them  on  the  enormity 
of  the  sin  of  lying ;  could  refer  to  the  great  truths  from 
great  men  which  had  lifted  mankind  up  and  done  them 
so  much  good  ;  and  to  the  great  lies  of  great  liars  which 
have  held  humanity  back  and  done  it  so  much  harm. 
The  Devil  could  be  referred  to,  by  the  professor,  as  the 
Father  of  Liars  with  excellent  effect,  and  finally,  he 
could  read  to  the  class  some  of  the  lies  of  some  member 
(which  had  been  sent  up  as  a  pai^t  of  his  histor}')  and 
comment  on  it  before  his  face. 

The  greatest  trouble  that  I    can  sec  about  an  insti- 


lyiARS  AND  Their  Lies.  297 

tution  of  this  kind  is,  that  I  fear  that  there  would  be  so 
many  relapses  amongst  those  who  had  served  out  their 
first  terms  and  been  sent  home  that  it  would  tend  to 
discourage  the  professors. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE. 


REASONS  FOR  THE  CODE — RELATIONS  OP  DOCTOR  AND  PA- 
TIENT— THE  NEW  COMER  AND  THE  EMERGENCY  CASE — SMITH 
AND  THE  CAT  SKIN  POULTICE — JONES,  HOT  CORN  AND  BURNT 
FEATHERS — "OLD  PILL  GARLIC"  AND  THE  DYING  GIRL. 

^HERE  is  nothing  connect- 
ed with  our  profession 
concerning  which  there  is 
SO  much  dense  ignorance 
among  the  masses  as  the 
''  Code  of  Ethics."  Peo- 
ple, as  a  rule,  both  the  ig- 
norant and  the  intelligent,  regard 
it  ver}'  much  in  the  same  light 
that  they  would  the  constitution 
and  by-laws  which  should  govern  a 
band  of  robbers.  They  look  upon  it  as  being  the  funda- 
mental law  which  governs  a  class  of  meft  who  are  band- 
ed together  against  society,  and,  in  some  way,  this  law 
is  the  expressed  intention  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
conspiracy  is  to  be  carried  out.  The  organization  of 
medical  societies  and  their  active  work  only  shows  the 
active  workings  of  the  conspirators  under  this  law. 

So  deeply  rooted  is  this  idea  in  the  public  mind 
that  not  a  few  of  the  quacks  whom  I  have  known — 
quacks  who  knew  more  about  the  prejudices  of  people 


Consultations  and  The  Code.  299 

against  "  code  doctors  "  than  they  did  about  practice — 
have  taken  the  pains  to  proclaim  througli  the  news- 
papers and  in  cards  and  pamphlets  that  "  the  doctor 
does  not  belong  to  the  medical  societies  and  is  not 
bound  by  the  Code  of  Ethics."  Many  men  have  tempo- 
rarily gained  a  good  practice  by  pandering  to  this 
prejudice. 

Now,  candidly,  is  the  prejudice  founded  in  reason  ? 

I  answer,  no ;  and  I  am   prepared  to  further   assert 

that,  if   the  people    generally   understood    the    Code  as 

every  good  physician  ought  to  understand  it,  they  would 

all  be  strong  advocates  of  it. 

They  would  advocate  it  for  the  very  reason  that, 
while  the  Code  is  intended  to  hold  doctors  to  a  strict 
accountability  for  their  conduct  toward  each  other,  it 
holds  them  just  as  firmly  to  a  strict  accountability  for 
their  conduct  toward  their  patients  and  the  public 
generally. 

The  Code  is  to  the  doctor  the  hiQ^hest  law  in  the 
universe  outside  of  the  Bible,  and,  if  he  does  not  recog- 
nize the  Bible,  then  it  is  the  highest  law.  What  the 
discipline  is  to  the  Methodist,  the  Confession  of  Faith  to 
the  Calvinist,  and  the  Articles  of  Faith  to  the  Baptist, 
the  Code  is  to  the  doctor.  It  is  the  expressed  law 
which  is  to  govern  him  in  his  conduct  toward  his  breth- 
ren, his  patients  and  the  public.  It  may  be  urged  that 
a  gentleman  does  not  need  the  Code.  This  is  true. 
Neither  do  the  healthy  need  a  physician ;  nor  do  the 
saints  in  heaven  need  a  Savior.  Unfortunately  for  our 
profession,   we   were  all  men   before  we  were  doctors. 


300  Consultations  and  Thk  Code. 

Men  as  varied  in  our  instincts,  education,  intelligence 
and  desires  as  an}-  other  class  of  men.  If  we  could 
make  the  ideal  doctor  first  and  then  make  the  man  to  fit 
him  then  we  would  need  no  Code.  Unfortunately  for 
doctors,  some  of  them  are  not  all  that  a  doctor  should 
be.  The  opportunities  offered  to  take  advantage  of  a 
fellow  practitioner,  and  especially  to  take  advantage  of 
and  to  cheat  a  credulous  and  confiding  public,  are  so 
many  that  many  a  doctor,  not  morally  strong,  but  nat- 
urally weak  and  avaricious,  takes  advantage  of  them. 

For  such  the  Code  is  made. 

We  can  not  compel  them  to  accept  it  any  more 
than  you  can  compel  a  man  to  be  a  Mason,  an  Odd 
Fellow  or  a  Christian.  But  you  can  refuse  a  man  Ma- 
sonic or  Christian  fellowship  if  he  is  neither  and  we  can 
refuse  a  doctor  our  fellowship  if  he  refuses  to  be  one  of 
us  in  spirit  by  subscribing  to  the  fundamental  law  which 
holds  us  all  to  a  strict  accountability  for  our  conduct  as 
medical  men  and  orcntlemen. 

And  yet  we  are  blamed  for  this  every  da3^  Intelli- 
gent people  who  would  never  think  of  recognizing  a 
man  as  a  Christian  who  does  not  subscribe  to  the  funda- 
mental law  of  Christians — the  Bible — will  abuse  and 
blame  us  for  refusing  to  recognize  and  affiliate  with  a 
man  who  publishes  his  condemnation  of  our  fundamen 
tal  law — the  Code. 

"And  yet  doctors  quarrel,''  I  am  answered. 

Yes  and  so  do  Christians ;  so  do  Masons,  so  do 
everybody. 

Man  at  his  best  is  a   quarrelsome  creature.      Of   all 


Consultations  and  The  Code.  301 

the  creatures  that  live  he  is  most  jealous  ot  his  rights. 
The  doctor  is,  perhaps,  the  most  jealous  of  his  kind. 

The  question  is  often  asked  me, 

"  Why  do  doctors  quarrel  more  than  other  pro- 
fessional men  ?" 

I  am  scarcely  willing  to  admit  that  they  do  ;  but,  if 
they  do  there  are  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  it. 
There  are  good  and  sound  reasons  at  the  bottom  of  all 
puzzling  questions,  if  we  can  only  get  at  them.  Let  us  see 
what  they  are  in  regard  to  doctors'  quarrels : 

Other  professional  and  business  men,  as  a  rule,  have 
only  a  commercial  interest  in  their  clientele.  The  mer- 
chant measures  his  goods  across  the  counter  to  you,  is 
glad  to  have  3'our  custom — and  your  money,  and  if  he 
sees  3^ou  enter  the  store  across  the  way  he  "  does  not 
take  it  to  heart."  Some  one  else  comes  "from  across 
the  way "  and  takes  your  place.  The  lawyer  writes 
your  deeds,  examines  your  titles  and  defends  you  in 
court  and  the  next  week  will  take  a  case  against  3'ou  if 
you  do  not  see  him  first.  And  so  with  all  professions 
and  lines  of  business  except  ours.  We  occupy  a  differ- 
ent relation  to  our  patrons  from  that  of  any  of  these. 
We  are  brought  in  ^lirect  contact  with  the  family  in  a 
relationship  the  most  intimate  as  well  as. the  most  seri- 
ous and  sacred  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  man. 

Suppose,  if  3^ou  plea5,e,  that  I  have  done  the  practice 
of  a  family  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years.  I  have  been 
present  at  the  births  of  all  the  children  of  the  household, 
have  taken  them  through  their  teething,  the  measles, 
mumps,  whooping  cough   and  scarlatina.      I   have  stood 


302  •      Consultations  and  The  Code. 

by  the  mother  in  the  most  serious  times,  when  a  mistake 
or  bad  management  on  my  part  would  have  left  a  help- 
less household  bereft  of  its  dearest  and  best  friend — the 
mother.  I  have  sat  night  after  night  in  the  dangerous 
illness  of  the  children  with  my  finger  on  the  pulse  and 
have  administered  the  remedies  with  my  own  hand,  and 
remained  and  carefully  noted  their  effect.  The  mother 
and  father  hold  me  above  all  others  in  highest  esteem 
and  teach  the  little  ones  from  their  first  lispings  to  be- 
lieve that  "  Dockie  ""  is  the  greatest  and  best  of  earth's 
noblemen.  There  is  nothing  in  that  household  too 
good  for  me.  The  little  ones  climb  upon  my  knee  with- 
out fear  and  ask  me  to  explain  all  about  the  mystery  of 
how,  when  and  where  I  found  them,  "  when  oo  bwought 
me  to  mamma.'"  Is  there  nothing  between  me  and  that 
family,  think  you,  excepting  a  cold  business  relationship 
and  the  commercial  matter  of  fees?  Oh,  my  friend,  he 
who  thinks  so  knows  little  about  the  best  fees  that  a 
doctor  receives — the  love,  affection  and  esteem  of  those 
whom  he  has  helped  in  the  direst  extremity  of  their 
lives. 

Now,  just  here  a  fellow  comes  along  with  a  plug 
hat  and  chin  whiskers.  He  moves  in.  He  is  one  of 
those  fellows  ''  who  knows  so  much  that  it  seems  to 
make  him  unhappy." 

He  is  a  cousin  of  the  mother  or  a  remote  relation 
of  the  father;  or,  he  belongs  to  the  same  church  that  they 
do  or  is  a  member  of  the  same  lodge  with  the  father. 
He  is  one  of  those  ingratiating  fellows.  He  is  poor  and 
needy  and  anxious  to  do  practice  and  especially  anxious 


Consultations  and  The  Codp:.  303 

to  do  the  practice  of  this  very  family — thinks  he  ought 
to  do  it,  for  they  are  his  kin,  or  his  church  or  his  lodge 
brethren  and  sisters.  His  wife  plainly  tells  the  mother 
of  their  povei-ty  and  says  that,  "  if  the  doctor  don't  get 
something  to  do  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of    us.'' 

The  father  and  the  mother  talk  the  matter  over  and 
kindly  conclude  that  they  ought  to  call  him  in — "  when 
there  ain't  much  the  matter." 

I  thus  find  him  gradually  wedging  himself  in  be- 
tween me  and  those  who  are  dear  to  me,  and  who  hold 
me  still  dearer.  Now,  in  spite  of  his  poverty,  that  old 
human  desire  to  unceremoniously  kick  him  besets  me. 
I  can  not  be  in  his  presence  without  feeling  the  ham- 
string muscles    of  my  right  leg  involuntarily  contract. 

He  is  robbing  me  of  that  which  I  hold  above  all 
fees  and  above  all  else — the  love  and  confidence  of  a 
good  family — that  love  and  confidence  fairly  won  on  the 
battle-field  of  m}^  profession  when  life  was  the  prize  for 
which  I  fought.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  doctor's  quarrel; 
more  especially  when  w^e  consider  the  fact  that  all  doc- 
tors are  "not  as  good  as  they  ought  to  be?'' 

Many  of  the  bitterest  quarrels  of  doctors  arise  from 
the  second  doctor  being  called  in  an  emergency  while 
the  regfular  attendant  is  absent. 

You  are  attending  a  case  and  you  leave  town  to 
see  another.  An  emergency  arises.  The  patient  is 
taken  with  a  sudden  pain  in  some  part  of  the  body — a 
pain  which  has  not  been  present  in  the  case  before — or 
has  a  hemorrhage  or  faints.  The  family,  in  their  ex- 
citement, send  for  "  anybody,"  which   is  a  bad  rule — for 


•304  Consultations  and  Thk  Codk. 

"  anybody  "  is  not  always  competent.  They  get  some 
man  who  is  not  altogether  scrupulous  and  who  is  angling 
for  good  paying  families. 

He  comes. 

After  making  himself  as  agreeable  as  possible  he 
gives  his  attention  to  the  patient.  He  gets  the  history 
of  the  case,  and  especially  the  history  of  the  new  trouble, 
and  is  informed  that  3'ou  are  attending  the  case. 

He  asks, 

"  What  does  the  doctor  (you)  say  ails  the  patient  ?" 

He  is  answered  that  you  said  it  was  "  malarial 
fever."  He  says  not  a  word,  but  turns  his  face  away 
from  the  person  who  is  answering  his  questions  and 
smUes — simply  smiles  a  bland,  incredulous  smile. 

Now,  it  does  not  seem  that  a  simple  smile  ought  to 
cause  an}'  trouble,  and  yet  there  is  a  cause  for  a  big  war 
and  the  expenditure  of  millions  of  blood  and  treasure  in 
that  smile. 

What  does  the  smile  do? 

It  simply  throws  doubt  on  your  ability  and  your 
diagnosis.  It  says,  as  plainly  as  signs  can  say  it,  that 
you  are  treating  the  patient  for  something  he  hasn't  got, 
and  that,  in  short,  you  are  a  donkey  and  don't  know 
what  you  are  doing.  When  pressed  for  something  fur- 
ther he,  perhaps,  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  sa3s, 

"  Oh,  well,  madam,  I  wouldn't  like  to  say.  We 
must  be  particular  about  these  little  things,  3'ou  know." 

He  asks  what  you  are  giving  and  when  shown  the 
medidne  he  turns  his  head  awa}'  and  smiles  again.  This 
adroit  fellow,  with  two  smiles  which  cost  no  effort,  and 


CONSUI.TATIONS    AND    ThE    CoUK.  305 

without  saying  a  word,  has,  perhaps,  shaken  and  ahiiost 
destroyed  a  confidence  which  you  have  been  years  in 
dihgent  and  honest  effort  in  building  up.  When  3^ou 
hear  of  his  smiles  you  momentarily  feel  like  a  murderer, 
if  you  have  any  temper — and  you  probably  have  if  you 
are  good  for  anything  and  belong  to  my  race. 

Consultations,  too,  are  often  the  cause  of  quarrels. 
There  is  a  disagreement.  It  may  be  an  honest  diagree- 
ment,  but  it  leads  to  trouble.  The  family,  in  some  way, 
find  it  out — which  they  should  never  be  permitted  to  do. 
The}^  find  it  out  and.  the  consulting  physician  is  sought 
out  and  questioned.  If  he  is  an  honest  man  and  knows 
his  duty  he  will  not  talk.  But  he  may  not  be  honest ; 
or  he  may  not  know  his  duty.  At  any  rate  the  family 
get  very  different  ideas  from  the  two  men,  when  in  fact, 
they  ought  to  get  all  they  should  know  from  the  family 
ph3^sician  and  from  him  alone,  as  he  is  the  one  to  give 
the  family  all  directions,  and  all  indeed  that  they  are 
entitled  to  know.  There  may  be  cases  where  the  call- 
ing in  of  a  third  man  is  necessary.  Under  such  circum- 
stances the  family  physician  may  be  permitted  to  state 
plainly  why  a  third  is  wanted. 

And  yet  consultations  are  very  necessary  in  many 
cases,  and  the  physician  should  be  the  first  to  call  for  it 
when  the  necessity  arises.  I  have  known  some  other- 
wise very  good  physicians  to  make  themselves  very  un- 
popular, both  with  the  profession  and  the  public,  by 
their  persistence  in  refusing  consultations.  Such  men 
generally  have  an  overweening  confidence  in  their  own 
abilities,  or  very  little  in  that  of   their  professional  breth- 


3o6  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

ren.  Tlie  physician  who  permits  any  precious  human 
Hfe  to  be  lost  without  first  calHng  to  his  assistance  all 
the  help  that  is  needed  or  is  available  does  not  know 
half  his  duty. 

But  it  is  trying,  sometimes,  to  feel  compelled  under 
a  pressure  of  circumstances  to  call  a  man  whom  you 
know  to  be  ignorant,  unscrupulous  or  mean.  There  are 
so  many  ways  in  which  a  consulting  physician  can  dis- 
play his  littleness  if  he  is  mean  enough  to  do  so.  I 
once  knew  a  doctor  who  was  never  called  in  a  case  with- 
out doinor  something-  which  was  calculated  to  undermine 
the  attending  physician.  He  would  volunteer  directions 
about  the  diet,  or  how  to  administer  the  medicines;  and 
I  have  known  him  to  purposely  leave  his  gloves",  and 
return  for  them  from  his  buggy,  and  while  in  the  room, 
fix  the  cover  and  give  some  extra  directions  or  cautions 
about  the  case.  This  seemed  so  kind  and  so  good  upon 
the  part  of  the  doctor  to  the  famil}'  that  they  involunta- 
rily fell  to  worshipping  him. 

"  He  took  so  much  interest  in  the  patient,''  they 
said  ;  and  yet,  for  all  his  seeming  interest,  he  thought  of 
himself  (of  whom  he  was  passionately  fond)  a  dozen 
times  where  he  would  think  of  the  patient  once. 

I  have  heard  of  and  have  seen  some  very  amusing 
things  in  consultations.  When  I  began  practice  I  went 
out  on  the  border,  partly  in  order  to  quickly  secure 
practice  which  I  needed,  and  partly  to  get  away  irom 
the  old  doctors,  whom  I  very  much  feared.  I  com- 
mitted the  very  common  mistake  of  believing  that  gre}' 
hairs  and  wisdom  were  synonymous  words.      I  was  }oung 


Consultations  and  The  Codk.  307 

and  ignorant  and  knew  it.  I  did  not  wish  to  expose  my 
ignorance  to  anybody  and  so  decided  to  keep  out  of  the 
way.  When  I  got  settled  I  practiced  for  several 
months  without  calhng  counsel.  I  knew  it  must  ulti- 
mately come,  but  I  postponed  it  as  a  man  postpones  the 
lancing  of  a  felon.  I  thought  it  would  be  painful  and  I 
wished  to  put  it  off  as  long  as  possible.  If  I  could  have 
been  chloroformed  (like  the  man  with  the  felon)  and 
could  have  held  the  consultation  while  under  complete 
anaesthesia  I  know  I  would  have  felt  better. 

But  it  came. 

I  finally  had  a  prominent  citizen  on  my  hands  with 
pneumonia.  He  didn't  improve.  The  right  lung  be- 
came consolidated  "^wiS.  I  suspected  invasion  of  the  left. 
His  pulse  was  rapid,  his  breathing  shallow,  and  his 
countenance  cyanosed. 

The  family  asked  for  a  consultation,  and,  as  an 
honest  man,  I  could  not  refuse  it.  They  wanted  an  old 
man  whom  I  shall  call  Smith  (because  that  was  not  his 
name)  and  I  consented. 

I  had  heard  much  of  Smith.  He  had  practiced  in 
that  country  ever  since  he  was  let  out  of  the  Ark,  and 
according  to  tradition,  had  done  some  wonderful  things. 
He  generally  selected  a  remedy  "which  went  right  to 
the  spot."  If  I  had  any  such  remedies  I  didn't  know 
how  to  select  them  and  there,  I  thought,  was  where  my 
weakness  lay. 

Smith  came.  He  was  riding  an  old  rail  backed 
horse  with  a  chawed  off  tail,  and  a  saddle  with  a  cantle 
so  high  that  it  struck  him  under  the  scapulae  and  a  horn 


3o8 


Consultations  and  The  Code. 


about  as  high  in  front.  He  rode  with  a  part  of  a  barrel 
hoop  and  when  he  would  strike  the  old  horse  in  the 
flank  he  (the  horse)  would  kick  up  behind  and  his  tail 
would  go  round  like  a  coffee  mill  handle.  Smith  had  a 
bushy  head,  beetling  eye-brows,  and   wore  the  old  fash- 


AND  HIS  TAIL  WOULD  GO  ROUND    LIKE  A  COFFEE  MILL  HANDLE. 

ioned,  green  leggin's  tied  on  with  the  hems  of  his  wife's 
petticoat,  and  thought  sat  perched  on  his  massive  brow 
like  a  lone  crow  on  a  country  hog  rack. 

He  examined  the  patient  very  superficially — confin- 
ing his  examination  mainly   to  asking  questions  of   the 


Consultations  and  The  Code.  309 

wife — and  we  retired.  With  trepidation  and  modesty  I 
detailed  the  history  of  the  case  and  my  treatment,  and 
then  braced  m3'self  to  receive  the  cannonading  of  soHd 
wisdom  which  I  supposed  would  come.  I  expected  him 
to  so  overwhelm  me  with  his  technicalities  that  I 
wouldn't  be  able  to  be  out  for  a  week.  Smith  looked  at 
me  sharply  from  under  his  eyebrows  and  asked: 

"  Doctor,  did  you  ever  try  black  cat  skin  poultices 
in  these  cases  ?" 

I  admitted  that,  in  my  ignorance,  I  never  had. 

"  Well,""  said  he,  "  it  is  a  good  thing  if  3'ou  can  get 
a  ree/ black  cat.     It  acts  like  a  charm."" 

I  was  astonished.  Seeing  a  loop  hole,  out  of  the 
case,  I  informed  the  family  that,  as  the  patient  was  in 
great  danger,  and  as  Dr.  Smith  was  older  than  I  and 
had  once  been  their  family  physician,  I  thought  he  had 
better  take  the  case.  They  were  delighted  and  Smith 
unhesitatingly  took  charge. 

That  was  an  awful  and  calamitous  night  on  cats — 
especially  black  cats.  The  boys  killed  nearly  all  the 
cats  in  the  neighborhood  and  the  prominent  citizen  died 
earl}'  the  next  morning. 

Smith  said  that  "if  he  had  gotten  there  a  little 
sooner  and  could  have  found  a  ree/  black  cat  he  thought 
he  could  have  saved  him."  There  is  another  matter 
connected  with  this  case  which  may  delight  the  reader. 
Smith  is  dead^  also! 

I  was  called  once  to  meet  in  consultation  a  man 
whom  I  shall  call  Jones.  I  rode  fifteen  miles  on  a  dark 
night,  over   a   rough    country     before    I    reached    him. 


3IO  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

When  I  reached  the  place  I  found  the  typical  home  of 
the  squatter — log  cabin,  one  room  and  no  yard  fence. 
As  I  entered  the  room  I  inhaled  an  odor  so  pungent  that 
it  almost  gave  me  an  attack  of  spasmodic  asthma. 
Jones  arose  from  one  corner  of  the  room  and  came  for- 
ward to  meet  me.  He  was  six  feet  two  in  his  stocking 
feet  and  had  a  nose  that  looked  like  the  red  lantern  in  a 
political  torch  light  procession.  He  had  only  one  eye 
and  the  other  looked  like  a  fried  egg.  When  he  stood 
up  by  me  and  towered  above  me  and  beamed  on  me 
with  his  good  eye  I  felt  that  I  had  at  last  met  the  myth- 
ical Cyclops.  He  said  he  had  a  case  of  retained 
placenta. 

''  Well,  what  is  it  that   smells  so,  doctor?''  I  asked. 

"  I  am  burning  some  chicken  feathers  in  a  pot 
under  the  bed.  I  have  always  heard  that  that  is  a  good 
remed}',  though,  they  say  that  Dominicker  feathers  is 
the  best,"  said  Jones. 

We  moved  the  pot  on  account  of  my  threatened 
asthma. 

When  I  came  to  examine  tiie  patient  I  ran  across 
a  hot  and  wet  ear  of  corn  leaning  against  her  side  and 
others  on  her  abdomen  and  around  her  limbs.  I  took 
out  about  a  half  bushel  altogether. 

Jones  said  that  he  had  "  always  heard  that  that  was 
good  in  such  cases,""  and  I  stood  there  and  waited  for 
the  Lord  to  smite  him  and  didn't  kill  him  myself.  I 
relieved  the  woman  of  the  placenta,  but  she  died.  I  am 
sorry  to  state  that  Jones  was  living  at  last  accounts. 

A  medical  friend  of    mine    tells  me  a  funny  story 


Consultations  and  The  Codp:.  311 

illustrating  the  character  of  a  shrewd  coiintr}'  quack. 
When  my  friend  returned  from  the  Confederate  army 
(where  he  had  been  an  assistant  surgeon)  he  settled  in 
the  county  seat  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  counties  of  our 
state.  He  was  30ung,  but  had  had  some  experience, 
was  a  close  student,  and  had  that  kind  of  energy  and 
grit  that  finally  enables  a  man  to  rise  in  almost  any 
calling. 

Living  in  the  country  some  ten  or  fifteen  miles  from 
town  was  one  of  those  shrewd  fellows,  who  practiced  on 
the  slam-banging,  tire-away-without-taking-sight  method. 
He  was  often  compelled  to  call  in  a  consulting  physician, 
and,  generally  called  my  friend.  Just  why  he  did  so  my 
friend  was  not  able  to  guess,  unless  it  was  that  my 
friend  was  young  and  the  old  fellow  thought  would  be 
less  able  to  expose  his  ignorance.  They  were  on  quite 
good  terms,  but  one  thing  my  friend  could  never  suc- 
ceed in  doing  and  that  was  to  get  the  old  man  to  tell 
what  he  was  treating  the  patient  for  until  he  (my  friend) 
first  examined  the  patient  and  made  a  diagnosis.  Then 
the  old  man  would  agree  with  him,  compliment  him  on 
his  ability  and  say 

"That  is  just  what  Tve  been  doctorin'  him  fur." 

He  was  somewhat  afraid  of  the  spreading  popular- 
ity of  the  young  doctor,  and  would  6ften  say  of  him, 

"A.  is  a  d — d  fine  3'oung  doctor;  d — d  tine.  In 
fifteen  or  hve^tty  yeaT"  from  now  he'll  be  as  good  as  any 
of  us." 

That  was  a  safe  declaration,  as  he — the  old  man — 
would  in  all  probability,  be  out  of  the  way  by  that  time. 


312  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

At  last  my  friend  made  up  his  mind  that  the  next 
time  lie  was  called  in  he  would  compel  the  old  man  to 
tell  what  the  matter  was  or  he  would  refuse  to  do  so. 
He  was  soon  called  to  see  one  of  the  county  Judges  in  a 
remote  part  of  the  count}'.  The  old  man  was  treating 
him  and  A.  found  him  there.  When  A.  went  in  the  old 
man  greeted  him  cordially  and  when  A.  asked  him  how 
the  Judge  was  the  old  man  answered, 

"Purty  sick,  purty  sick  ;  A.  warm  yourself  and  gp 
in  and  examine  him." 

"  What  seems  to  be  the  matter  with  the  Judge?" 
said  A. 

"  Go  in  and  examine  him  for  yourself,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  Well,"  said  A.  "  I  will;  but  can't  you  give  me 
some  idea  of  what  the  trouble  is,  so  as  to  save  time  and 
that  I  may  not  expose  him  too  long  on  such  a  cold 
day.^" 

"  Go  in  and  examine  him  and  then  tell  me  what  the 
matter  is  ;  I  don't  want  to  prejudice  your  mind.  Find 
out  for  yourself,  young  man  ;    it'll  do  you  good.'' 

With  all  the  pressure  A.  could  bring  to  bear  he 
couldn't  wring  the  old  doctor's  diagnosis  out  of  him. 
He  went  in  and  examined  the  Judge  and  found  him  in 
the  second  stage  of  pneumonia.  He  came  back  and 
after  pumping  the  old  doctor  again  and  proving  the  in- 
efficiency of  his  pump  he  gave  it  up. 

The  old  man's  turn  came  now. 

"  What  do  3'ou  sa3-'s  the  matter  with  him,   A..^" 

''  He's  got  pneumonia,"  said  A. 


CONSUIvTATlONS    AND    ThR    CodR.  313 

"  Head's  level  again.  You  hit  'em  right  along,  my 
boy.  I  tell  'em  all  you  are  the  comin'  man  in  these 
parts.  Have  you  ever  seen  the  new  instrument  that 
they  examine  the  lungs  Vi^ith?" 

A.  didn't  know  that  he  had.  The  old  man  then 
went  down  into  a  very  long  pocket  in  a  ver}'  long  over- 
coat and  triumphantl}'  brought  out  a  Camann's  binaural 
stethoscope.  Where  or  how  he  ever  came  across  it  A. 
did  not  know. 

"  Look  at  that,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Look  at  that, 
young  man.  That's  what'll  tell  3'ou  what's  the  matter 
with  the  lungs  ever}'  time.  Put  these  two  eends  in  your 
ears  and  go  in  thar  and  put  this  other  eend  on  the 
Judge's  chist  and  listen." 

A.  thought  he  had  the  old  man  cornered,  and  so 
asked  : 

''What  shall  I  listen  for  doctor?'' 

"  You  go  in  thar  and  put  that  on  the  Judges  chist 
j^oung  man,  and  then  come  back  and  tell  me  what  you 
heard." 

"Well,  doctor,"  said  A.  "  I  can  do  that,  but  can't 
you  give  me  some  idea  of  the  sounds  that  I  shall  listen 
for  so  that  I  may  make  better  use  of  the  new  instrument 
and  that  the  examination  may  be  the  more  instructive 
to  me." 

The  old  man  showed  signs  of  being  hard  pressed, 
but  at  last  recovered  himself  and  said. 

"A.  go  in  thar  and  put  these  two  eends  in  your  cars 
and  put  the  big  eend  on  the  Judge's  chist  and  listen,  and 


314  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

if  30U  don't  liear  the  d — dest  rumblin'  and  roarin'  that 
3'ou  ever  heard  in  3-oiir  Hfe  then  you  may  call  me  a 
liar." 

Dr.  A.  gave  it  up, 

I  know  of  nothing  that  better  illustrates  the  fact 
that  the  ridiculous  often  treads  closel}'  upon  the  heels  of 
the  serious  than  the  following  which  occurred  in  one  of 
my  own  consultations  : 

I  was  called  by  telegraph  several  years  ago  to  go 
to  a  town  on  the  railroad  some  distance  from  where  I 
was  then  living.  I  knew  something  of  the  history  of  the 
family  to  which  I  was  called. 

A  mother  and  three  daughters — the  mother  made  a 
widow  when  the  3'oungest  was  a  babe.  They  were  poor 
but  good  people  and  the  daughters  were  all  pretty. 
The  poor  mother  had  held  them  together  by  dint  of 
hard  work — a  little  millinery,  a  little  dress  making  and 
other  sewing — in  her  humble  house.  The  youngest, 
and  the  fairest  and  the  most  loved  was  now  fifteen. 

I  never  knew  so  much  that  was  amiable  and  beau- 
tiful and  cleanly  and  lovely,  in  a  family  so  poor. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  house  I  was  taken  throuo-h 
the  little  sitting  room  and  parlor  and  up  a  narrow  and 
steep  flight  of  stairs  to  a  bed  room  above.  Here  I  found 
the  youngest  in  the  throes  of  death. 

She  was  attended  by  one  of  the  queerest  beings 
that  1  ever  met  in  consultation.  He  was  near  sixty 
years  of  age  and  wore  a  wig  and  dyed  his  beard  with 
nitrate  of  silver.  His  beard  always  had  that  peculiar 
arrangement  of    colors  which   Warren  gives  to  the  hair 


Consultations  and  The  Codk.  315 

of  Tittlebat  Titmouse  in  "  Ten  Thousand  a  Year/'  the 
color  which  Bret  Harte  calls  "  the  purple  black  of  a 
dyed  mustache."  He  was  at  enmity  with  the  world  on 
two  counts  :  First,  the  world  did  not  accept  his  relig- 
ion, and  second,  it  did  not  take  his  pills.  In  fact  he 
had  kept  the  world  from  taking  his  pills  by  insisting  too 
strongly  on  its  taking  his  religion.  The  citizens  called 
him  "  Old  Pill  Garlic." 

The  histor}-  of  the  present  case  was  that  the  beau- 
tiful girl  had,  on  the  Friday  preceding,  eaten  some  wild 
persimmons.  At  night  she  was  taken  with  a  sudden 
and  severe  pain  low  down  on  the  right  side.  "  Old  Pill 
Garlic  "  was  called,  and,  instead  of  giving  the  suffering 
child  an  opiate  and  putting  on  a  poultice,  he  gave  three 
of  Cook's  pills.  That  failing  to  accomplish  an3'thing,  he 
gave  three  compound  cathartic  pills,  then  three  blue 
mass  pills,  then  three  doses  of  calomel.  After  he  had 
run  the  gamut  of  the  magic  three  he  then  gave  salts, 
castor  oil,  seidlitz  powders,  etc.,  finally  ending  with  a 
few  drops  of  croton  oil,  which  he  often  repeated  per 
orem  and  per  anema.  The  girl  had  torsion,  impaction, 
intussusception  or  some  obstruction  of  the  intestinal 
canal,  and,  of  course,  "  Old  Pill  Garlic's  ''  medication 
had  only  added  fuel  to  the  fire.  He  was  standing  by 
the  bed  a  perfect  picture  of  routed  helplessness.  The 
poor  child  was  cold  as  ice  to  the  knees  and  elbows,  was 
pulseless  and  was  tossing  in  the  agonies  of  death.  After 
hearing  the  history  and  examining  the  patient,  I  stepped 
aside  with  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  what  do  vou  think  of  her?''  said  he. 


3i6  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

"I  think  she  is  d3'ing,"  said  I. 

"What !   not  so  bad  as  that,  is  it?" 

I  answered  that  she  would  not  Hve  an  hour. 

She  did  not  Hve  half  that  time. 

Here  was  a  man  with  some  education,  and  who 
had  also  had  the  advantages  of  a  medical  education, 
who  had  practiced  medicine  nearly  forty  years,  and  yet 
did  not  have  judgment  enough  to  know  when  a  person 
was  d3'ing.  I  was  given  the  most  painful  task  of  inform, 
ing  the  mother  and  sisters  that  the  child  was  dying. 

Painful  task,  I  say,  because  of  all  the  painful  duties 
that  a  doctor  is  called  upon  to  perform,  this  has,  to  me, 
always  been  the  most  painful.  There  was  agony, 
screams  and  tears.  Oli,  the  agony  it  cost  to  surrender 
the  beautiful,  the  gentle,  the  loved  and  petted  one  of 
this  little  band. 

When  she  had  breathed  her  last  a  lady  (whom  I 
had  known  from  my  young  manhood)  asked  me  to  help 
her  take  the  mother  and  sisters  down  stairs.  We  did 
so,  and  leaving  old  P.  G.  behind,  passed  down  through 
the  little  parlor,  and  into  a  little  bedroom.  Here  m}^ 
lady  friend  broke  down  and  said, 

"  Oh,  can't  some  one  pra}^  for  these  poor,  suffering 
women .^     Brother — will  you  pray?" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  a  good  old  deacon  who 
had  just  come  in.  We  all  knelt  down  and  the  deacon 
petitioned  the  Throne  of  Grace.  The  prayer  was  some- 
what rambling  and  ungrammatical  but  he  talked  as  if  he 
was  talking  to  the  Lord  face  to  face.  There  were  no 
attempts  at  lofty  flights,  but  in  the  simplest  and  plainest 


Consultations  and  The  Code. 


317 


^i^-^ 


of  human  speech,  he  told  the  Lord  of  the  wants  of  the 
widow  and  the  orphans,  called  him  "  Heavenly  Parent" 
and  "Beloved  Father,''  and  with  his  simple  speech,  ten- 
der pathos  and  strong  faith,  lifted  us  all  up  to  the 
Pearly  Gates. 

The  stricken  ones  seemed  to  be  soothed  by  the 
prayer  and  ceased  their  loud  wailings. 

Just  as  the  Deacon  said  "Amen,"  there  came  a  sud- 
den -jverturning  of  something  at  the  top  of   the  stairs,  a 

wild  exclama- 
tion, and  then 
r  u  m  p  i  t  y, 
b  u  m  p  i  t  y, 
bump,  bump, 
b  u  m  p  i  t  y, 
bump  — swash 
-h-h-h.  The 
last  sounded 
as  if  some  one 
was  swabbing 
a  Krupp  gun 
with  a  Dutch 
peddier. 

"  There,"  said  my  friend,  "the  old  doctor  has  fal- 
len down  stairs." 

I  seized  the  lamp  and  ran  into  the  little  parlor  and 
there  found  "  Old  Pill  Garlic  ''  on  his  knees  and  left 
hand  while  he  felt  out  in  a  spasmodic  and  uncertain  way 
with  his  right  for  something  in  front  of  him.  I  saw  a 
black   object  on    the  floor,  thought    it    was    a  cat    and 


I  SAW  THAT  HIS  HEAD  SHONE  LIKE  A  LOCOMO- 
TIVE HEADLIGHT. 


3i8  Consultations  and  The  Code. 

kicked  it.  Then  turning  the  light  full  upon  the  doctor 
I  saw  that  his  head  shone  like  a  locomotive  headlight. 
I  knew  then  that  the  black  object  was  his  wig.  I 
picked  it  up,  and,  having  a  light  in  the  other  hand,  I  put 
it  on  hind  part  before. 

When  the  doctor  arose  he  had  bangs  clear  down  to 
his  eyes,  and  he  turned  around  like  a  blind  horse  three 
times  before  he  got  his  wig  straight. 

I  asked  if  he  was  hurt  much. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  said  he,  in  a  way  that  indicated  that 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  falling  down  stairs  just  for  the 
exercise  it  gave  him. 

We  soon  had  the  wig  straightened,  however,  and, 
bidding  all  good-bye,  I  took  tiie  train  for  home  within 
an  hour.  I  was  so  impressed  with  the  sorrows  of  the 
family  and  the  deacon^s  prayer  that  "  Old  Pill  Garlic's'" 
tumble  did  not  seem  amusing  or  ridiculous.  In  fact  it 
made  so  slight  an  impression  on  me  that  I  forgot  it. 

Six  months  afterward  a  facetious  fellow  from  -he 
little  village  came  into  my  office  and  reminded  me  of  it. 
There  was  no  sorrow  present  then,  and  no  tender 
pra3'er  to  lift  me  up  and  it  did  really  seem  ludicrous. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS. 

PATIENTS,  HOTEL  KEEPERS,  ETC. — THE  HOMELY  CRANK— 
"THE  HON.  MRS.  SKEWTON" — MR.  GUTZWEILER — THE  SICK  GIRL, 
THE  DEAF  LANDLADY  WITH    TIN  TRUMPET,  AND   THE  MILLINER. 

PRESUME  that  people  of  all  pro- 
fessions and  trades  have  their  an- 
noying customers  and  patrons.  The 
lawyer  is  annoyed,  no  doubt,  by  the 
persistent  client  who  wants  to  sue 
but  has  no  case ;  the  merchant  by 
the  customer  who  looks  at  everything  in 
the  store  and  buys  nothing  ;  the  minister 
by  the  sinful  penitent  who  is  always  sin- 
ning and  always  repenting  and  is  never  satisfied ;  and  so 
I  might  go  on  through  them  all  and  we  would  find  that 
there  is  no  business  to  transact,  which  brings  us  in  con- 
tact with  the  masses,  which  has  not  its  trials  and  petty 
annoyances. 

Some  people  seem  to  have  been  born  to  trouble 
others.  They  seem  to  feel  that  they  are  burden  bearers 
and  they  are  everlastingly  trying  to  shift  the  burden. 
Some  people  are  born  nial  a  propos — breech  presenta- 
tions, so  to  speak — and  they  go  about  the  world  wrong 
end  foremost,  and  no  reasonable,  well  organized  person 
can  come  in  contact   with  them  without  being  more  or 


320  People  Who  Annoy  Doctoks. 

less  upset.      I  know  people,  to   avoid   meeting   whom,  I 
would  willingly  walk  around  a  whole  block. 

It  is  not  the  sick  alone,  of  whom  the  above  observa- 
tions are  made  ;  for,  any  good  and  humane  physician 
will  learn  to  bear  and  forbear  with  the  sick.  Some  of 
our  patients,  however,  annoy  us  enough — those  who 
"get  their  disease  in  their  heads  ;"  who  are  never  any 
better;  who  tell  us  that  the  last  medicine  made  them 
worse  ;  patients  who  come  oftener  than  we  desire  and 
who  wish  to  go  over  all  the  details  of  their  physical  ail- 
ments each  time,  and  who  throw  in  all  of  their  little  fam- 
ily troubles,  squabbles  and  broils,  as  a  sort  of  relish ; 
those  who  wish  to  hold  a  consultation  with  the  doctor 
about  their  cases,  or  come  with  a  diagnosis  already 
made  and  a  remedy  selected,  but  seem  to  want  the  doc- 
tor to  take  the  responsibility  of  the  treatment.  Such  as 
these  give  us  trouble  enough  ;  but,  there  are  others  who 
seem  to  make  it  a  part  of  their  business  to  worry  their 
family  physician,  or  any  one  whom  the}'  may  select  for 
that  purpose. 

I  think  there  are  some  women  in  the  vv^orld  (and 
they  are  most  all  good,  God  bless  'em!)  who,  when  ar- 
ranging for  a  trip  down  town,  really  cogitate  and  tax 
their  brains  as  to  how  much  real  annoyance  they  can  in- 
flict on  the  dr}'  goods  man,  the  dress  maker  and  the  mil- 
liner, and  who  finally  wind  up  by  saying  to  themselves 
something  like  this  : 

"And,  ah-yes,  well,  after  that,  I  guess  Til  go 
around  and  worry  the  doctor  awhile!"  and  they  do. 

I    remember    one    miserable    case    that    gave     me 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  321 

enough  worry    to   have  made  Job  totter  on   his    good 
resokitions. 

Before  I  had  made  her  acquaintance  I  had  noticed 
her  saihng  around  our  streets,  in  a  cranky  sort  of  way 
— always  pulHng  a  httle  girl  by  the  hand,  and  walking 
so  fast  that  the  poor  child  was  often  almost  pulled  off  its 
little  feet. 

She  was  a  slender,  stoop  shouldered,  tallow  faced 
and  cadaverous  looking  little  woman,  with  a  hawk-bill 
nose  and  pop  eyes.  Oh,  she  was  so  homely!  I  have 
heard  of  people  being  so  homely  that  they  had  the  face 
ache.  If  such  a  thing  were  possible  how  this  woman 
must  have  suffered.  It  really  gave  one  a  pain  to  look 
at  her.  She  came  into  my  office  one  afternoon  drag- 
ging the  little  girl  by  the  hand  and  planked  herself 
down  in  a  chair,  and,  after  arranging  some  bundles  she 
had  in  an  old  maidish  sort  of  fashion,  she  looked  at  me 
and  opened  up  thus  : 

"Air  you  Dr.  King?" 

"•  Yes,  madam." 

"  Well,  IVe  heard  of  you,  and  they  say  that  you  air 
a  purty  good  doctor.  Now,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what's 
the  matter  with  anybody  when  they  feel  jest  like  some- 
body was  a  gripping  of  their  thighs  and  pulling  all  the 
flesh  off  and  like  somebody  else  had  both  hands  a  holt 
of  their  bowels  and  was  jest  a  twistin'  and  a  wringin'  of 
'em  and  like  somebod}'  else  had  a  rusty  nail  tied  onto  a 
string  and  was  jest  a  pullin'  it  up  and  down  on  the 
inside  of  the  spine  of  their  backs." 


322  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

I  smiled,  almost  audibly,  at  this  array  of  unusual 
symptoms  and  answered: 

"  Well,  madam,  those  are  not  symptoms  of  any- 
thing that  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Shet  your  mouth,  you  mean  thing,"  said  she, 
snappishly,  "  I  jest  know  you  air  a  laughin'  at  me." 

Then  I  couldn't  keep  from  "  laughin'  right  out  in 
school," 

Well,  I  examined  her  case  and  prescribed  for  her, 
and  had  her  on  my  hands  as  a  standing  horror  for  four 
years.  She  just  wouldn't  have  anybody  else.  I  took  it 
as  a  great  compliment  and  again  thought  of  trying  to 
trace  my  genealogy  back  to  the  "  Man  of  Uz."" 

She  was  dissatisfied  with  the  w  hole  earth  and  the 
planets  and  the  space  and  things  beyond  the  planets  ;  but, 
her  one  crow'ning  trouble  was  that  she  was  lean,  and  her 
one  desire  in  life  was  to  get  fat.     She  w^ould  say  to  me: 

"  rU  take  anything;  Pll  cat  sticks,  I'll  eat  boards, 
I'll  eat  hay  if  you  w^ill  only  tell  me  it  will  make  me  fat." 

I  would  as  soon  have  undertaken  the  task  of  put- 
tmg  fat  on  a  hoe  handle  or  a  pair  of  tongs  as  to  try  to 
put  it  on  her.  You  had  only  to  see  her  to  knoiu  that  to 
make  her  fat  was  an  impossibility. 

She  had  a  good  looking  husband  and  was  jealous  of 
him,  and,  in  addition  to  her  other  troubles,  she  used  to 
load  me  down  with. her  suspicions  about  "my  man.'' 

She  wanted  beer — as  she  had  heard  that  would 
make  fat.  I  ordered  it — a  glass  at  each  meal.  She 
would  get  a  half  dozen  bottles,  drink  them  all  in  one 
day,  get  gloriously   drunk,  be  sick  three  days  and  then 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  323 

come  down  to  the  office   and   tell  me  that  the  beer  was 
not  doing  her  any  good.      I  believed  her. 

She  finally  died  of  acute  mania;  but,  oh,  my!  the 
trouble  she  did  give  me  in  the  last  four  years  of  hci 
life!  I  am  glad  now  that  I  was  patient  with  this  poor 
nervous  and  unfortunate  woman.  Perhaps  I  added  ;; 
little  to  her  happiness — if  it  could  be  said  that  she  knev. 
any  such  thing  as  happiness;  or,  to  put  it  better,  it  may 
be  that  the  kindness  I  showed  her  and  the  patience  with 
which  I  bore  her  man}^  most  aggravating  annoyances 
made  her  less  unhappy.  If  so,  then  I  am  glad,  for,  per- 
haps she  will  remember  it  up  there,  where  she  is,  per- 
haps, as  pretty  and  as  fat  as  any  of  the  others  of  the 
redeemed. 

Another  class  of  people  who  annoy  doctors  is  the 
class  of  persons  who  send  for  you  in  a  great  hurry — want 
you  "right  away'' — and  are  never  ready  for  you  when 
you  get  there.  They  keep  you  waiting  at  the  door  for 
half  an  hour  and  then  a  servant  admits  you  and  directs 
you  to  take  a  seat  in  the  sitting  room,  where  3'ou  wait 
another  half  hour. 

I  attended  a  comparatively  poor  family  once  where 
it  took  almost  as  much  time  and  red  tape  to  reach  the 
patient  as  it  ought  to  take  to  procure  an  audience  with 
the  queen  of  England. 

It  may  be  that  the  lady  of  the  house  is  sick  and  that 
after  you  reach  the  front  door  she  takes  a  bath,  changes 
her  night  dress  and  perfumes  herself  (this  kind  of  people 
are  great  perfumers)  fixes  her  hair,  and,  if  she  is  not  too 
sick,  paints  and  powders   her   face.     After  this  she  ad- 


324  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

mits  you.  This  sort  of  people  are  always  sacrificing  the 
convenience  of  somebody  else  in  order  to  have  their 
own  way  and  their  own  time  about  matters.  They  are 
supremely  self  important,  not  to  say  selfish.  I  do  not 
know  how  my  professional  brethren  act  under  such  cir- 
cumstances; but,  no  family  ever  puts  me  in  a  waiting 
attitude  but  once.  After  that  there  is  a  plain,  fair  talk, 
which  everybod}^  can  understand,  and  the  moral  to  it 
is:  Don't  make  the  doctor  wait;  be  ready  for  him  ;  his 
time  is  precious  and  there  are  other  sick  people  in  town 
who  need  him,  perhaps,  while  he  is  waiting.  After  this 
talk,  if  the  offence  were  repeated,  I  would  either  go 
away  or  kick  in  the  front  door,  and  my  action  would 
probably,  be  determined  by  the  strength  of  the  door.  I 
believe  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  outraging  the  feel- 
ings of  a  saint.     This  is  one  way  in  which  to  do  it. 

I  had  a  most  annovins:  case  of  the  kind  once.  A 
distinguished  old  couple  from  another  state  visited  the 
small  town  where  I  was  then  practicing.  The  gentleman 
was  a  most  excellent  man  in  all  respects — had  succeeded 
in  making  a  great  deal  of  money  in  his  time,  and  his  friv- 
olous and  weak  wife  had  succeeded  in  spending  it  for 
paints  and  powders,  frills,  flounces  and  furbelows  almost 
as  fast  as  he  had  made  it.  She  was  between  sixty  and 
seventy  years  of  age  at  this  time  and  was  as  pronounced 
a  specimen  of  the  type  dudine  as  I  ever  saw.  She 
had  never  been  beautiful,  and  at  this  time  she  was  old 
and  bony,  with  sunken,  wrinkled  cheeks  and  scraggy 
jaws ;  in  short,  she  was  a  regular  mardi  gras  figure. 
They  were  people  somewhat  distinguished  in  the  locality 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  325 

from  whence  the}^  came,  and  this  reputation  had  pre- 
ceded them,  so  that  ahnost  the  entire  little  town  was  put 
under  contribution  for  their  entertainment.  This,  I  sup- 
pose, is  the  reason  wh}^  I  bore  with  the  annoyances  of 
this  silly  and  frightful  old  ogress  without  "  giving  her  a 
piece  of  my  mind  " — a  very  large  piece. 

She  grew  sick.  Change  of  climate,  water  and 
diet  brought  on  a  violent  trouble  and  I  was  sacrificed  for 
the  occasion.  I  never  got  to  see  her  under  an  hour  after 
I  called  and  it  was  often  longer.  She  had  the  most 
elaborately  wrought  night  dresses  and  wore  more  loud 
jewelry  than  a  Senegambian  princess.  She  wore  spit 
curls,  pasted  and  painted  all  over  and  into  the  dips, 
spurs  and  angles  of  her  scraggy  old  face,  and  perfumed 
until  the  air  was  rank  with  the  odor  of  Mellier  extracts, 
attar  of  roses,  musk  and  so  forth. 

She  would  generally  permit  me  to  catch  her  in  the 
last  act  of  this  business  of  upholstering  her  physiogno- 
my, and  would  simper  and  giggle  and  make  pretense  of 
hiding  her  boxes  and  bottles  under  the  bed  clothes,  like 
a  silly,  bashful  girl,  who  is  caught  kissing  a  boy,  the 
giddy  old  thing.  She  would  sit  up  in  bed  and  go  through 
this  nonsensical  performance  when  she  was  so  sick  that 
it  was  all  she  could  do  to  hold  up  her  weak  and  empty 
head.  I  nicknamed  her  "  The  Hon.  Mrs.  Skewton."" 
The  reader  will  remember  "The  Honorable  Mrs.  Skew- 
ton  "  (in  Dombey  &  Son)  who  used  to  have  such  flirta- 
tions with  Capt.  Joe  Bagstock,  and  who  ordered  the 
attendants  to  "  draw  the  pink  curtains,"  when  she  was 
dying,  in  order  that   she   might    have  the  pink  glow  on 


326  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

her  cheek.  This  woman  was  a  complete  counterpart  of 
her. 

One  thing  that  makes  such  persons  so  unbearable 
is  the  fact  of  the  utter  uselessness  of  the  life  that  the  per- 
son has  led  or  is  leading.  A  person  whose  whole  life  is 
devoted  to  spending  what  some  one  else  makes  ;  who 
never  does  anything  commendable  ;  who  never  earns 
anything,  is  always  contemptible.  We  don't  like  to  be 
annoyed  by  worthless,  useless  people.  I  would  willing- 
ly sleep  in  a  hog  pen  (and  lie  next  to  the  hogs)  with  a 
John  Howard,  or  with  any  man  whose  life  has  been  un- 
selfishly devoted  to  the  great  work  of  relieving  the 
pains,  miseries  and  wants  of  others,  if  it  gave  him  com- 
fort, while  I  can  not  bear  patiently  for  a  moment  with 
the  selfish  annoyances  of  people  who  live  for  and  think 
only  of  themselves.  This  is  the  difference,  and  it  is  a 
o-reat  difference. 

Another  class  of  people  who  annoy  doctors  is  the 
class  who  wish  to  get  sick  people  out  of  their  houses. 
To  this  class  belong,  notably,  hotel  keepers,  boarding 
house  keepers,  real  estate  landlords,  and,  sometimes 
others. 

Here  is  a  case  : 

I  am  called  to  see  a  3'oung  man  who  is  stopping  or 
boarding  at  a  hotel.  After  the  second  visit  I  pronounce 
the  case  to  be  typhoid  fever.  To  the  friends,  attendants 
or  others  about  the  sick  person  I  announce  this  fact  and 
order  that  certain  things  be  done  and  that  certain  pre- 
cautions be  observed.  This  news  spreads  through  the 
hotel  and  the   landlord  hears  it.     He  at  once  sees  disas 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  327 

ter  staring-  him  in  the  face.  He,  therefore,  hes  in  wait 
for  me  at  my  next  visit.  As  I  pass  in  he  hails  me.  I 
know  at  once  what  he  wants  and  tell  him  I  will  see  him 
when  I  come  down.      On  coming  from  my  patient's  room 

I  find  him  faithfully  on  guard.  He  speaks  very  low, 
takes  me  to  a  private  room,  shuts  the  door  and  sits  down 
facing  me  and  the  following  dialogue  takes  place  : 

"Doctor,  you  are  waiting  on  Mr.  Johnson  in   room 

II  are  30U  not.-^'' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  er-ah-what's  the  matter  with  him  ?" 

"He  has  t3'phoid  fever.'' 

'•'•  Typhoid  fever!  You  don't  say  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  is  an  unmistakable  case  of  t3'phoid.'' 

"  Umph  hoo!     Well,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it." 

Then  there  is  a  short  silence  and  I  know  just  what 
this  silence  means.  He  is  summoning  all  the  impu- 
dence from  the  innermost  depth's  of  his  selfish  nature 
and  getting  ready  for  the  onslaught.      He  breaks  silence: 

"  Well,  er-ah.  Doc,  when  can  you  take  him  away 
from  here?'' 

"  Get  him  away  ?"  I  ask,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,''  he  answers,  somewhat  confidently,  now 
that  he  has  broken  the  ice,  "  when  can  you  move  him  ?" 

"/move  him?"  I  ask  again,  affecting  still  greater 
astonishment. 

"  Yes,  when  can  you  take  him  out  of  the  hotel  ?" 

"  I  can't  take  him  away  at  all,"  I  answer. 

"You  can't?     Why  not?" 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  didn't   bring   him    here  ; 


328  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

and,  in  the  second  place,  I  am  not  in  the  transfer  busi- 
ness. You  seem  to  think  that  I  have  gone  into  the 
transfer  business,  but  you  are  mistaken." 

"Well,  but.-er-ah-he's  your  patient." 

This  is  his  clincher,  and  I  answer  it — 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  3'our  guest,  and  he  was  your  guest 
before  he  was  my  patient.  Do  3'ou  think  I  am  going  to 
fritter  away  my  time  moving  people  around  from  place 
to  place  and  getting  sick  people  out  of  hotels  in  order  to 
please  frightened  landlords  ?  You  must  be  going 
insane?" 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?''  he  asks,  with  much 
excitement, 

"  Don't  do  anything.  Keep  quiet  and  behave  your- 
self and  then  you  will  not  get  into  trouble." 

Then  he  thinks  awhile  and  this  is  the  result : 

"Well,  er-ah,  can  /move  him?" 

"Well,  as  to  the  ph3'sical  act  of  moving  him  I  pre- 
sume you  could;  but  you  will  not." 

"I  will  not?     Why  not?" 

"Because  I  will  not  permit  you  to  move  him." 

"You  will  not  permit  me!  Well,  now,  that's 
pretty  cool.     Well  see." 

"  That's  a  good  idea.  You  see  about  this  matter 
before  you  do  an}'thing  rash,  for  if  you  move  this  sick 
man  without  my  consent  and  any  harm  comes  to  him  in 
consequence  of  the  removal  I  will  have  you  arrested. 
Let  me  advise  you  to  see  your  law^^er  before  you  move 
this  sick  man." 

This  frightens  him  ;  but  he  tacks  and    comes  again. 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  329 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  he  is  to  you  ?  He's  a  per- 
fect stranger  to  you." 

"  He  is  everything  to  me,  sir.  He  is  very  sick  and 
has  sent  for  me  and  entrusted  his  Hfe  to  my  care,  and, 
so  long  as  he  is  sick  and  helpless,  and  I  am  acting  in  the 
capacity  of  physician  in  his  case,  he  is  not  only  entitled 
to  the  very  best  care  and  treatment  at  my  hands,  but  he 
is  entitled  to  my  protection  and  I  will  defend  him 
against  a  world  in  arms,  if  need  be,  and  the  man  who 
injures  him  must  first  place  me  hors  du  combat?"* 

This  is  a  poser.  The  landlord  thinks  again,  and,  in 
his  mind,  sees  his  best  guests  packing  their  trunks  and 
fleeing  from  the  contagion  of  typhoid.  It  is  dreadful 
and  the  very  thought  of  it  sits  upon  his  heart  and  weighs 
him  down  like  a  nightmare.  Then  he  gets  pathetic  and 
pleads.  He  begs  and  cajoles  me  ;  but,  I  am  defending  a 
sick  man  and  am  obdurate.  Then  he  goes  and  sees 
his  clerk  and  his  wife  and  comes  back  full  of  the  spirit  of 
compromise  :  Can  he  move  him  into  a  small  room  at 
the  top  of  the  house  ?  I  go  with  him  and  look  at  the 
room;  and,  if  it  suits  me  I  say  "3'es."  If  not  I  select 
one  that  does  suit  me,  and  permit  the  landlord  and  his 
help  to  move  my  patient.  I  remain  and  watch  the  pro- 
cess to  see  that  he  is  not  hurt,  and,  since  matters  seem 
to  be  moving  on  so  nicel}^  I  quietly  inform  the  landlord 
that,  if  everything  goes  well,  at  a  certain  time  I  will 
permit  him  to  move  my  patient  to  another  place — I  to 
first  see  and  approve  the  place  and  he  to  take  all  the 
trouble  of  moving  him  under  my  directions.  For  the 
time  1  am  absolute  master  of   this   man's  house,  and   I 


330  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

enjo}'  it.  I  enjoy  no  part  of  it  more  than  the  fact  that 
I  have  impressed  on  the  mind  of  this  ordinarily  imperi- 
ous autocrat  the  fact  that  /  am  not  i7i  the  transfer 
business. 

Here  is  another  case.  I  am  attending  a  poor  young 
married  woman,  in  a  small,  frame  house,  which  belongs 
to  a  thrifty,  but  close  fisted  German.  The  husband  is  a 
railroad  man,  earns  small  wages  which  just  about  enable 
him  to  keep  his  little  family  and  pay  the  rent,  and  the 
young  wife  is  stricken  down  with  a  pelvic  hemorrhage, 
{pelvic  hcematocele)  not  a  fatal  trouble  by  any  means,  but 
one  which  requires  quietude  for  several  weeks,  and 
which,  if  the  patient  were  moved  or  allowed  to  make 
exertion  in  the  erect  posture,  might  result  fatally.  The 
German  has,  perhaps,  already-  experienced  trouble  in 
getting  his  rent  when  it  was  due,  and  now  that  the  hus- 
band must  quit  work  for  a  while  and  lose  time  in  con- 
sequence of  his  wife's  sickness,  the  thrifty  Teuton  sniffs 
trouble  and  losses  in  the  air. 

He  docs  not  know  me,  but  he  comes  to  my  resi- 
dence  at  an  hour  when  he  knows  he  can  find  me.  He 
introduces  himself  and  sa3s  : 

"Vas  you  ductor  Ging?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  my  name." 

"Veil,  you  haf   one  batient  on  my  house  at  

East  fort  street — Meeses  Morgan." 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  correct." 

"Veil,  ductor,  oxkuse  me,  but  vas  she  very  seek?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gutzwciler,  she  is  very  sick.'' 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  331 

"  Veil,  oxkuse  me,  ductor,  but  ven  can  3'ou  get  her 
my  house  oudt  ?'' 

"  I  can't  get  her  out  at  all."'' 

"  Ish  dot  so  ?     Vy  you  can't  ?'' 

"  Because  she  is  too  sick  to  be  moved,  and  because 
I  am  not  in  the  transfer  business.  You  have  certainly 
made  a  mistake  Mr.  Gutzweiler,  you  think  I  am  in  the 
transfer  business." 

"  Who  said  dose  dings,  dot  you  in  de  transfare 
peesiness  vas.^     I  don't  said  nodings  like  dot." 

"  No,  you  did  not,  but  you  w^anted  to  know  when  I 
could  move  this  woman  and  I  didn't  think  you  would 
ask  such  a  question  unless  3'ou  thought  I  made  it  a  busi- 
ness to  move  sick  people." 

"  No,  no,  no,  I  don't  dink  no  such  dings  like  dot  ; 
aber  he  vas  your  batient." 

"Yes,  'aber'  she  is  your  tenant. 

"  Mine  Gott!  I  know  dot  alretty,  und  I  haf  heap  of 
droubles  dot  rent  to  goUect  alretty,  und  now  I  gets 
nodings." 

"  That's  bad  and  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Gutzweiler,  but 
the  woman  can't  be  moved.  That  is  the  lonor  and  the 
short  of  it,  so  please  do  not  bother  me  any  further  about 
the  matter." 

"  I  doned  gare  von  tam  by  dem  long  und  dem  short, 
aber  I  vant  dose  beoples  moved  my  house  oudt,  und  I'll 
git  'em  oudt,  by  yeminy!  You'll  see.  I  get  some  law 
und  move  'em  oudt ;  dot's  vat  I  do.'' 

"  That's  right,  Mr.  Gutzweiler,  you  get  some  law, 
bu{  don't  move  them  without  the  law,  because,  if  you  do. 


332  People  M^ho  Axxoy  Doctors. 

and  that  woman  should  die,  the}'  will  get  you  in  jail, 
sure.'' 

"Who  get  me  in  chail?'' 

"Why,  the  grand  jur}'  and  the  sheriff." 

"  Oh,  mine  Gott!  Dis  vas  der  meanest  beoples  und 
der  vorst  laws  vat  I  efer  seen,"  and  the  bowlegged,  jug 
bodied  and  disconsolate  fellow  waddles  off  home. 

He  evidently  consults  a  lawyer.  He  comes  again 
the  next  day  and  opens  up  after  the  same  fashion — 
"  oxkuse  me,  ductor,  aber  ven  can  you  move  dose  beo- 
ples my  house  oudt.^" 

I  call  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  1  am  not  in  the 
transfer  business,  which  seems  to  excite  and  aggravate 
him.  He  begs,  argues,  scolds,  gets  mad  and  raves,  and 
occasionally  gets  so  excited  and  exasperated  that  his 
small  stock  of  English  is  not  sufficient  to  express  his 
overwrought  feelings,  and  he  halts,  gasps,  strains  and 
tugs  at  his  memory,  and  draws  hasty  drafts  on  this  small 
stock  of  English  which  are  not  honored,  when  he  gets  so 
outraged  that  he  wrenches  great,  irregular  masses  of 
jaw  fracturing  words  and  parts  of  sentences  from  his 
German  store,  and  literally  fiiiigs  them  into  the  sen- 
tence with  an  audible  crash,  and  a  wild,  insane  gesture, 
which  finishes  the  sentence,  and  with  his  heart  pressure 
thus  relieved,  he  stands  and  pants  and  mops  his  head 
like  a  man  .who  has  run  a  hard  race  or  laid  down  a 
heavy  burden. 

I  sit  and  smile  and  look  up  at  the  ceiling.  I  de- 
spise sting}'  people  and,  therefore,  am  never  more  at  my 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  333 

ease  than  I  am  when  I  see  one  of  these  nickel  squeezing 
fellows  worrying  about  his  losses. 

He  comes  again  the  next  day  and  the  next  and  the 
next.  He  makes  all  sorts  of  propositions,  which  all  include 
the  idea  of  moving  Mrs.  Morgan  and  all  of  which  I  reject 
with  a  quiet,  firm  shake  of  the  head,  and  with  the  air  of 
a  man  who  knows  that  he  holds  the  situation  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  good  right  hand  and  intends  to  have  his  own 
wa}' — not  just  for  the  love  of  power,  not  to  be  wilfully 
overbearing,  but  for  the  sake  of  poor  little  Mrs.  Morgan, 
who  lies  helplessly  flat  on  her  back,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  little  girl  who  would  be  motherless,  should  Mrs. 
Morgan  die.  That  is  enough  to  justify  a  man  in  being 
firm,  even  if  some  shrivelled  souled,  nickel  squeezer 
does  not  feel  well.  I  lost  no  sleep  on  Gutzweiler's  ac- 
count, but  I  was  intensely  amused  at  his  agony.  It  was 
as  bad  as  a  case  of  cramp  colic. 

But,  he  came  too  often.  He  was  occup3'ing  too 
much  of  my  time.  I  couldn't  afford  to  have  a  circus  in 
my  house  every  day  even  if  it  did  amuse  me.  I  lost  pa- 
tience with  Gutzweiler  and  so,  when  I  saw  him  coming 
one  afternoon  I  met  him  in  the  front  yard  and,  in  a  few 
words,  told  him  that  he  must  not  come  to  my  house  on 
that  business  any  more. 

He  threatened  to  move  my  patient  and  I  quietly 
told  him  to  move  her,  and  that  it  would  kill  her  and  then 
he  w^ould  go  to  jail.  Then  he  got  madder  and  animad- 
verted in  very  tortuous  and  torturing  mixed  English 
and  German  on  the  laws  of  this  country. 


334 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 


I  said  to  him  in  a  quiet,  suggestive  and  somewhat 
aggravating  way : 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  Td  do  if  I  were  you,  Gutzweiler." 

"  Vat  30U  do?"  he  asked. 

"  I  would  go  back  to  Germany.  You  can  go  back 
to  Germany  and  work    for  fifteen  cents  a  day  and  eat 

'^2Sa^^^^^^    spoilt       kraut 


.^^'^'^^^"^  have  a 


/  real  good  time 

-almost  as 

good    as    the 

hogs    do    out 

here!" 

This    was 

too    m  u  c  h. 

G  ut  zw  e  i  ler 

got    steaming 

hot  and  grew 

insulting.        I 

seized    a  gar- 

^,  d  e  n     rake 

'"'^  which    had 

~   been    left 

asrainst  a  tree 


"i  don'd  skin  some  flints,  nudder."  in  the  front 
3'ard  and  made  a  feigned  desperate  pass  at  him  and  said: 

"  You  miserable  old  skin  flint,  if  30U  don't  get  out 
of  m^'  yard  I  will  break  you  up  so  small  that  there  will 
not  be  enough  left  of  3-ou  to  address  a  letter  to  !" 

"■  I  done  vant  no  letters!   who  said  I  vant  letters  vas 


PEOP1.E  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  335 

a  pig  lie;  imd  I  done  skin  some  flints,  nudder!     You  go 

gubbledy,  gobbledy,  gibbled}',  rar-r-r-r,  rar-r-r- 

zt-zit" — as  he  disappeared  around  the  corner,  his  mixed 
English  and  German  sounding  like  a  combination  of  the 
noises  of  escaping  steam  and  a  wooden  sorghum  mill. 

I  don't  know  whether  Gutzweiler  ever  collected  his 
rent  or  not,  nor  do  I  care.  I  know  that  I  did  not  get 
my  fee  in  the  case.  Don't  care  for  that,  either.  Mrs. 
Morgan  got  well  and  the  little  girl  was  not  left  an 
orphan  and  that  w^as  enough  to  satisfy  any  good  man. 

Here  is  a  still  more  peculiar  case : 

A  young  girl  whose  father  had  died  when  she  was 
a  child  and  whose  mother  married  again — ra-arried  a 
man  who  took  a  dislike  to  the  little  girl  and  drove  her 
away  from  home  at  the  age  of  twelve — gets  sick.  She 
has  been  a  sort  of  protege  of  mine  for  some  time.  She 
had  seen  much  trouble  for  a  young  girl,  but  through  her 
own  exertion,  with  some  aid  from  good  friends,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  a  fair  education.  She  was  a  good 
girl,  but  was  sick  a  great  deal.  I  had  attended  her  for 
years,  at  times  when  she  suffered  greatly. 

Through  the  influence  of  friends  she  got  a  position 
in  the  post  office,  and  just  at  a  time  when  she  was  con- 
gratulating herself  that  she  was  beginning  to  see  the 
long  looked  for  and  much  longed  for  daylight,  she,  as  I 
said  before,  was  stricken  down  with  a  bilious  fever.  She 
was  rooming  with  a  young  grass  widow  who  worked  \i\ 
a  millinery  store — the  milliner  furnishing  the  room 
and  Clara  occupying  it  with  her  to  save  expenses. 
They  were  in  the  house  of  an  old  widow  lady  who  was 


336  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

so  deaf  that  she  could  not  distinguish  between  the  noise 
of  a  cannon  and  a  church  choir.  She  wore  wool  in  her 
ears  and  carried  a  tin  trumpet  about  three  feet  long. 

Miss  Clara  was  very  sick.  Her  sickness  was  not 
dangerous,  but  painful. 

At  my  second  visit  the  old  lady  met  me  in  the  hall 
-tin  trumpet  in  hand  and  ears  full  of  wool.  If  she  had  had 
the  best  ear  trumpet  that  was  ever  invented  she  couldn't 
have  heard  thunder  throus^h  those  dense  wads  of  wool. 

She  had  the  flat  voice  peculiar  to  deaf  people  and 
used  the  staccatoed  interrogatory,  "  hah  ?''  after  every- 
thing that  was  said  to  her. 

She  came  at  me  sidewise,  with  that  exaggerated 
dinner  horn  to  her  ear,  and  almost  knocked  me  over  with 
it  before  I  could  make  out  what  it  was. 

"  Doctor,  30U  are  tendin'  on  Miss  Clara,  ain't  you  ? 
hail  ?''  (staccato  '^  hah!") 

''  Yes,  madam,""  I  answered. 

"  Hah  ?"  and  she  ran  at  me  sidewise  with  the 
abominable  old  horn  again. 

I  dodged  it  and  said,  ''  Yes,  madam,  1  am  attend- 
ing her." 

She  shoved  that  horn  at  me  again  (always  as  if  she 
were  trying  to  jab  me  in  the  face  with  it)  and  said, 

"  Doctor,  ril  hab  to  ask  you  to  talk  through  by 
truppet,  ads  I  ab  quite  deef.  Dow  ted  be."  (Now  tell 
me.) 

I  timidly  caught  the  long  tin  tube  by  the  big  end 
and  peered  down  it,  saw  the  bunch  of  wool  in  her  car, 
and  asked  : 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  337 

"  What  is  it  you  want  to  know?" 

"  Hah  ?     What  ab  I  goig  to  do  ?'' 

(Very  loud)  "  No,  ma'am,  what  is  it  you  want  to 
know  ?" 

''  Oh,  yes  ;  what  is  it  I  want  to  do  ?  Wed,  det  be 
see;  oh,  yes,  ids  she  very  sick?" 

''  Yes,  ma, am." 

"Hah?  a  dittle  douder,  please.' 

"  Yes,  ina^amy 

"  Hah  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  yeds.     Wed,  det   be    see oh,  yeds,  do  you 

thick  she'll  be  sick  very  log  ?" 

''  I  don't  know." 

-  Hah?" 

I  scream  "  I  don't  know.'' 

"Oh,  yes,  wed  '' 

And  while  she  is  getting  ready  to  fire  another  ques- 
tion I  drop  my  end  of  the  horn  and  run  up  stairs. 

I  found  the  poor  girl  quite  sick — high  temperature, 
bounding  pulse,  headache,  backache  and  vomiting.  She 
told  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  afraid  she 
was  going  to  have  trouble,  as  the  old  lady  didn't  want 
her  in  her  house  while  she  was  sick,  as  she  was  afraid  it 
would  interfere  with  her  renting  other  rooms,  and, 
worse  still,  the  milliner  was  pouting  because  she  (Clara) 
had  groaned  and  retched  all  night  and  had  kept  "  her 
grass-ship  "  from  sleeping. 

I    calmed    her    fears,  prescribed    for    her  and  went 


338  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

away — escaping  the  old  woman,  the  tin  horn  and  the 
wool,  on  my  way  out. 

The  next  day  the  old  woman  was  on  the  look  out 
for  me,  trumpet  in  hand,  and  more  wool  in  her  ears  than 
before.  She  sidled  up,  like  a  hog  going  to  war,  and 
scared  me  by  jamming  the  fianged  end  of  her  old  tin 
horn  in  my  face  again. 

"  Doctor,  that  gad  is  awfud  sick,  do't  you  thick  she 
ids.?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

-Hah!" 

"  Ves,  ma^am.'''' 

'^Hah.?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Wed,  doctor,  whed  do  you  thick  you  cad  hoove 
her?" 

"  I  can't  move  her  at  all." 

"Hah?" 

"  I  can't  move  her  at  all  (very  loud). 

"You  wid  boove  her  id  to  the  hawd  (hall;)  ids  that 
what  you  said?" 

{Sotto  voce)  "Oh,  you  old  mummy  !  how  I  would 
enjoy  throwing  you  into  the  horse  pond,  tin  horn  and 
all,"  and  she  jammed  the  flange  under  my  mustache 
again,  almost  knocking  out  my  frontal  incisors,  and 
said, 

"  Hah?  What  did  you  say  ?" 

I  seized  the  horn  with  both  hands  and  yelled, 

"  Nothing!" 

"Hah?" 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 


339 


''NotJuJig!  " 

"  Whed  did  you  say  you  could  boove  her  ?  Hah?" 
All  this  time  I  had  held  the  big  end  of  the  horn  in 
both  hands  and  the  old  lady  had  the  small  end  to  her 
ear  with  one  hand  and  we  had  been  going  around  and 
around  in  the  hall  like  two  fighting  roosters,  she  look- 
ing at  me  all  the  time  with  that  intense  listening  expres- 
sion on  her  face,  and  I  getting  red  in  the  face  and  yell- 
ing like  a  tire  chief  at  a  big  fire. 

/^::?-?#^%;  ^^'-^ <^^  "^    c  a  71  ''  t 

move     her. ""  I 
^1,  yelled. 

"Hah?" 
"  I      can't 

MOVE  HER,"  I 

screamed. 

"Hah? 
Dalk  a  dittle 
dowdcr.'^ 

I       grasped 

the    thing 

tighter, 

jammed   it  in- 

I  CAN'T  MOVE  HER.  to  the  wad  of 

wool,  tip  toed  and    ran   my  mouth,  moustache  and  nose 

into  the  funnel  end  and   screamed   almost    loud  enough 

to  rupture  her  t3-mpanic  membrane, 

"I  CANT  MOVE  HER!" 

She  looked  at   me  with  that  intense,  greedy,  listen- 
ing look  and  said, 


340  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

''  Hah  ?     Da/k  a  dittle  doivdcrf 

I  dropped  the  horn  and  it  struck  the  hall  floor  with 
a  whang,  and  looking  at  the  old  woman  with  a  frown 
and  a  deprecating  gesture,  I  shook  my  head  until  I  al- 
most loosened  my  teeth: 

"  Oh,  go  'way  !  go  'way  !"  and  ran  up  the  stairs. 
As  I  did  so  she  raised  her  trumpet  with  a  beseeching 
look  and  said, 

"  Hah  ?" 

I  reached  my  patient's  room  and  sat  down  and 
mopped  my  face,  for  I  was  perspiring  profusely  and  was 
as  tired  as  if  I  had  been  wallowing  in  a  puddle  with  a 
rhinoceros. 

My  patient  was  badly  demoralized.  She  was  still 
very  sick  and  she  told  me,  with  much  agitation  and 
many  tears,  that  the  old  lady  wanted  her  to  get  out, 
fearing  that  if  she  remained  it  would  injure  her  house  ; 
and  that  the   milliner  had  grown  obstreperous  and  said, 

"  She  must  get  out,  for  she  just  could  not  stand  it 
to  work  all  day  and  lay  awake  all  night.'' 

I  told  her  that  they  could  not  and  should  not  move 
her  ;  that  I  would  see  to  it  personally  that  they  did  not, 
and  that  she  might  calm  her  fears  on  that  point.  I  ad- 
vised her  to  be  quiet,  take  her  medicine,  say  but  little 
and  bide  her  time. 

She  raised  up  in  bed  on  her  elbow,  and  with  her 
big,  blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  said: 

"  Please,  Doctor  King,  look  after  me  and  protect 
me  ;  for  I  am  so  sick ;  and  you  know  I  have  been 
raised  almost  entirely    by    myself   and  I  don't  know  a 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  341 

thing  about  girls.     This  is  the   first  girl  I  ever  roomed 
with/' 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  my  dear  child,  I  have  very  little 
advantage  of  you  there,  for  I  never  roomed  with  but 
one  girl  either." 

She  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  and  I  left  her.     As  I 
went  through   the  hall    I    dropped  this  note  into  the  old 
lady's  room  : 
"  Mrs. 

Please  do  not  talk  to  Miss  Clara.  You  worry  her. 
Keep  out  of  her  room.  The  Doctor. 

Then  I  drove  to  the  millinery  store.  I  went  in  and 
inquired  if  Mrs.  Bangles  worked  there.  Yes,  she 
worked  there  and  was  in.  I  asked  to  see  her  and  she 
came  out  looking  somewhat  surprised. 

"  I  am  Dr.  King,  Mrs.  Bangles  and  I  — " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you    are   the    doctor   that's    'tending  on 

Miss  Clara and  you  are  the  very  person  I  want  to 

see,  for  I  want  to  know  when  you  can  move  — " 

I  raised  a  hand  and  said, 

"Just  one  minute,  Mrs.  Bangles,  please;  you  are 
laboring  under  a  grave  mistake ;  I  am  not  the  transfer 
man  ;  I  am  not  engaged  in  moving  people ;  1  am  a  phy- 
sician." 

She  looked  at  me  in  wide  eyed  wonder. 

"  Well,  you  will  have  to  take  her  away  for  I  did  not 
get  a  single  bit  of  sleep  last  night,  for  she  just  groaned 
and  — " 

I  raised  my  hand  and  checked  her  again,  for  she 
was  growing  excited  and  talking  loud. 


342  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

"  S-s-sh,"  I  said,  "don't  talk  so  loud  or  people  will 
find  out  that  you  have  a  temper.  Now,  I  came  to  say 
this :  The  girl  is  too  sick  to  be  moved.  She  can't 
be  moved.  It  is  impossible.  To  move  her  now  may 
kill  her.  If  you  force  her  out  of  that  room  and  away 
from  that  house  and  she  should  die,  her  death  will  be 
laid  at  your  door.  It  will  be  in  everybody's  mouth,  the 
newspapers  will  get  hold  of  it  and  they  will  write  you  up 
as  the  most  inhuman  wretch  that  ever  lived.  They  will 
call  you  '  The  Woman  Fiend,'  the  '  Female  Murderess,' 
and  you  will  have  to  flee  from  public  indignation  as  you 
would  from  a  contagion,  and  wherever  you  go  the  story 
will  follow  you,  and  3'ou  will  ever  hereafter  lead  a  pur- 
sued, helpless,  hopeless,  blasted  life,  which  will  be  worse 
than  death." 

I  watched  her  countenance  while  I  was  making  this 
terrible  array  of  the  things  that  would  occur  in  case  she 
turned  the  sick  girl  out.  Her  face  took  on  a  ghastly 
pallor  and  she  made  several  ineffectual  efforts  to  swal- 
low something  which  seemed  to  have  come  into  her 
throat,  and  after  staggering  up  and  resting  one  hand  on 
the  counter  she  asked  in  a  choked  voice, 

"  Well,  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  Do  anything,  Mrs.  Bangles,''  I  answered,  "  ex- 
cept to  be  cruel.  Cruelty  is  no  part  of  your  nature. 
You  are  a  good  woman,  but  you  just  haven't  thought. 
Think  this  matter  over  seriously.  Think  how  30U 
would  like  to  be  treated  if  you  were  in  her  place.  If 
you  ever  pray  go  and   say   your    prayers  to-night,  and 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors.  343 

after  you  get  through  sit  clown  and  imagine  that  the 
great  God  is  looking  right  into  your  heart,  and  then 
think  what  you  ought  to  do  and  decide  what  you  will  do. 
Remember,  I  insist  that  you  are  a  good  woman,  and  you 
will  have  to  prove  to  the  contrary  before  I  will  believe 
otherwise." 

I  left  her.  When  I  called  the  next  morning'  I  found 
my  patient  without    fever    and  full   of    surprise. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  has  come  over  Mrs.  Ban- 
gles ?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answered,   "why   do  you  ask?" 

"Why,"  she  went  on,  "when  she  came  home  last 
night  she  brought  me  some  lemons  and  made  me  a  lem- 
onade. She  gave  me  a  sponge  bath  and  then  sat  by  me 
and  bathed  my  face  and  put  cool  cloths  on  my  forehead 
and  changed  them  every  few  minutes.  She  talked  just 
as  kind  and  called  me  '  dear '  and  kissed  me.  Why,  I 
never  saw  such  a  change!  When  I  went  to  sleep  she 
was  still  by  the  bed  ;  and,  I  must  have  slept  very  sound 
for  when  I  awoke  this  morning  I  found  that  she  had 
lain  down  beside  me  and  was  asleep  with  her  face  right 
against  mine.  She  must  have  been  crying,  for  my  face 
and  hers  were  both  wet  with  tears  from  her  eyes." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  Miss  Clara,  at  first  she  thought  of 
herself  only;  then  she  acted  selfishly,  as  people  who 
think  of  themselves  only  always  do;  then  she  thought 
of  you,  and  then  she  acted  unselfishly.  Her  true  wo- 
man's nature  came  to  the  rescue  and  she  acted  her  true, 
good  self.     She  has  learned  a  good  lesson  and  it  will  do 


344  People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 

her  good.  You  must  be  grateful  and  love  her  and  let 
her  know  that  you  do." 

So  my  patient  did  not  move  at  all. 

These  are  the  exceptional  cases.  M}'  experience 
has  been  that  most  people  are  kind  to  the  sick.  The 
very  best  that  is  in  human  nature  comes  to  the  front 
when  we  are  in  the  presence  of  the  sick,  the  suffering 
and  the  dying.  This  is  especially  true  when  we  see  the 
helpless  and  the  unfortunate  sick  and  suffering,  who 
need  our  care  and  sympathy. 

Human  nature  is  very  good  after  all.  There  is  much 
that  is  brave  and  good,  tender  and  true  in  men  and  wom- 
en, if  there  is  only  an  opportunity  to  bring  it  out.  Some 
people  need  opportunity  and  occasion  to  bring  out  their 
good  points  just  as  others  may  need  opportunity  and  oc- 
casion in  which  to  displa}'  their  courage  or  some  other 
great  quality.  When  once  brought  out,  it  grows  stronger 
all  the  time.  In  other  words,  the  better  part  of  our  natures 
— charity,  forgiveness,  liberality  and  all — need  to  be  ex- 
ercised in  order  to  be  strong,  just  as  our  muscles  and 
our  brains  need  to  be  exercised  in  order  to  develop  and 
grow  strong.  In  this  life  the  things  that  lie  still  must 
perish ;  the  things  that  are  active,  that  move,  are  the 
things  that  live  and  grow. 

I  have  never  seen  the  milliner  since,  but  I  know  the 
circumstance  must  have  been  of  lasting  benefit  to  her.  I 
hope  it  may  land  her  safely  in  Heaven.  I  do  not  know 
what  the  effect  was  on  the  deaf  old  landlady.  She 
couldn't  hear  enough  to  learn  much.  She  was,  practic- 
ally, a  dead  stump.     But  when  she  gets  to  the  pearly 


People  Who  Annoy  Doctors. 


345 


gates,  if  she   must  undergo  an  examination  before   she 
can  enter,  I  do  hope  that  she  will  not  put  up  that  old  tin 
trumpet  and  say, 
"  Hah  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  > 


HELPING  THE  DOCTOR  OR  OTHERWISE — A  SECOND  MAR- 
RIAGE AND  A  MOTHERLESS  CHILD — THE  RESULT  OF  DEVEL- 
OPING ONE  SIDE  OF  THE  FAMILY — JANUARY  AND  MAY — DID 
HE    KILL   HIS   WIFE? 

N  our  practice,  ordinaril}',  we 
have  the  helpful  assistance  of 
b-  the  family  and  friends  of  the 
^^  patient.  This  is  necessary  to 
the  well-being  and  ultimate  re- 
covery of  the  sick  one,  as  well 
as  to  the  success  of  the  doctor. 
ff  But  this  is  not  always  the  case. 
As  strange  as  it  may  seem  there 
are  cases  in  which  we  find  op- 
posing forces.  Somebody  does 
not  desire  that  the  patient  shall  recover ;  and  while,  as 
a  rule,  they  are  not  mean  enough,  or  are  too  cowardly 
to  administer  anything  which  would  hasten  the  patient's 
taking  off,  yet  they  oppose  you  in  little  ways.  They 
saw  something  during  your  absence  which  contra-indicat- 
ed the  medicine  and  they  did  not  administer  it.  They  are 
slow  to  do  the  little  things  which  you  order  to  be  done, 
and  which  are  often  so  essential  to  success. 
Here  is  a  case  : 
A    man    marries    the    second   time.      He  has    one 


Did  He  K11.1.  His  Wife?  347 

child  by  his  first  wife — a  little,  sickly,  cross,  pitiful  thing. 
The  second  wife  is  a  selfish  woman,  and  let  me  say  right 
here,  that  no  thoroughly  selfish  woman  ever  loved  an- 
other woman's  child.  She  has  a  nose  which  is  high 
across  the  bridge,  a  strong  under  jaw  and  a  projecting 
chin,  thin  lips  and  a  mouth  slightly  turned  down  at  the 
corners.  She  keeps  her  mouth  tightly  shut,  except 
when  at  war,  and,  when  in  ill  humor,  she  shoves  the  un- 
der lip  up  in  the  center,  which  results  in  giving  the 
mouth  a  crescent  cqrve.  She  is  straight  up  and  down 
on  the  back  of  her  head,  or,  in  other  words,  she  has  not 
that  great  anterio-posterior  length  of  crown  which  phre- 
nologists say  denotes  the  motherly  instinct. 

In  time  she  has  a  baby  of  her  own.  She  would  not 
do  this  except  for  two  reasons  :  First,  she  wants  some- 
thing which  will  furnish  an  excuse  for  pushing  the  child 
of  the  first  wife  aside  and  at  the  same  time  win  the  affec- 
tions of  the  husband  and  father  from  his  first  born;  and, 
secondl}^  she  could  not  help  it.  The  step  child  is  at 
once  driven  to  the  kitchen  and  there  it  remains.  It  is 
neglected,  starved,  abused  and  beaten.  From  exposure 
and  neglect  it  at  last  grows  sick.  It  is  still  neglected, 
but  finally  reaches  such  a  condition  that  "  a  decent  re- 
spect for  the  opinions  of  mankind  "  compels  the  cruel 
step-mother  and  the  pliant,  nobody  of  a  father,  to  send 
for  a  doctor.  Now,  here  is  a  case  in  which  you  are 
handicapped  from  the  very  beginning. 

The  step-mother  desires  that  the  child  shall  die.  It 
is  in  the  way — in  the  way  as  to  its  actual  presence  and 
every  day  needs,  and   will  be  in   the  way  of    her  child 


348  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife? 

when  the  property  shall  be  inherited.  The  father  is 
passive,  mentally  myopic,  stupid  and  reasonably  obedient. 
The  prospect  is  that  you  will  lose  the  little  patient.  The 
angels  pity  the  poor  little  thing  and  mercifully  come 
and  take  it  home  to  its  own  dear  mother's  breast. 

Here  is  another  case  : 

An  old  and  wealthy  citizen  grows  sick.  He  has 
been  a  grinder  in  his  day  and  has  accumulated 
wealth  enough  to  ruin  his  sons  and  to  invite  heartless 
rascals  to  marry  his  daughters.  The  sons  are  shiftless 
spendthrifts,  the  sons-in-law  are  greed}'  and  the  old  man 
is  miserly  and  tough.  He  should  have  died  long  ago 
according  to  the  natural  course  of  things,  but  he  is  tena- 
cious of  life  and  refuses  to  die — the  ungrateful  old 
wretch. 

The  daughters  may  be  good  and  dutiful,  but  there 
will  be  a  row  if  they  attempt  to  assist  you  in  an  intelli- 
gent way.  The  sons  and  the  sons-in-law  sit  around  and 
scowl ;  are  not  in  favor  of  anything  in  particular  but  are 
opposed  to  everything  in  general.  I  can  not  conceive  of 
anything  in  human  shape  that  is  more  contemptible  than 
a  stout,  able-bodied  man  sittinsi:  around  waiting  for 
somebody  to  die. 

If  you  expect  to  save  the  old  man  you  had  better 
hire  a  nurse  and  order  everybody  else,  in  plain  terms, 
to  "Hands  off." 

Case  III  : 

A  couple  get  married  when  they  are  very  young. 
They  are  matched  in  every  way  as  to  education,  prop- 
erty and  social  advantages.     They  are  in  moderate  cir- 


Did  Hk  Kii,i^  His  Wife  ?  349 

cumstances,  but  they  toil  on  together.  The  husband 
has  a  good  brain,  becomes  a  student  and  developes  into 
a  strong  man  mentally.  He  may  choose  a  profession 
and  even  become  distinguished  amongst  his  fellows. 
What  has  the  wife  been  doing  all  this  time  ?  She  has 
been  doing  household  drudgery  and  bearing  children — 
one  every  eighteen  months.  The  strain  on  her  constitu- 
tion has  been  great.  The  rapid  revolution  of  her  mater- 
nal functions  has  taken  all  the  life  out  of  her.  She  grows 
sickl}',  loses  her  teeth,  is  w^rinkled,  slab-sided,  jaded  and 
worn  out  generally,  and  withal,  is  ignorant.  The  hus- 
band has  gone  forward  and  upward  in  letters  ;  she  has 
gone  backward  and  downward.  She  never  goes  into 
society  and  sees  nobody.  He  goes  everywhere  and  sees 
everybody.  She  has  grown  prematurely  old  and  home- 
ly. He  is  yet  young,  and  handsomer  than  when  they 
were  married.  Nobody  admires  her.  Everybody  ad- 
mires him.     The  men  say, 

"  Charlie  is  as  smart  as  a  whip  and  a  splendid 
fellow." 

The  women  say, 

"  Oh,  so  intellectual  and  handsome,  and  such  a 
homely  old  wife.  I  wonder  how  he  ever  came  to  marry 
her.^" 

Now,  this  may  be  a  rare  case.  It  is  rare,  in  fact; 
but  the  writer,  in  his  limited  experience,  has  seen  more 
than  one  like  it.  At  last  the  poor,  worn  out  wife  and 
mother  grows  sick.  She  has  done  her  duty,  served  her 
time  and  the  angels  are  calling  her,  too. 

Now  Charlie    is    rich    and  ambitious  and  he  knows 


350  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife  ? 

that  he  can  marry  again.  He  can  marry  a  young, 
handsome  and  well  educated  woman  ;  one  who  will  be 
more  in  S3''mpathy  with  him,  whom  he  can  take  into  so- 
ciet)^  and  "  show  off,"  and  who  will  help  him  in  his  am- 
bitious schemes.  He  could  not  do  this  with  his  poor, 
worn  out  first  love.  The  reader'now  raises  an  objection 
and  says  I  make  humanity  too  bad.  I  am  not  writing 
about  the  rule,  dear  reader;  I  am  giving  the  exceptions. 
Humanity  is  not  all  bad,  thank  God.  I  believe  that  men 
and  women  are  falling  upward  every  day;  but  many  are 
falling  the  other  w^ay.  The  burglars  and  thieves  are  not 
all  the  bad  ones  that  this  world  holds,  and  some  of  the 
worst  of  humanity  never  see  the  inside  of  a  jail  and  are 
never  punished.  There  are  murderers  who  never  wield 
a  knife,  pistol  or  bludgeon,  but  who  commit  murder  by 
looking  on  and  wishing. 

Now,  if  he  is  a  thoroughly  worldly,  ambitious  and 
selfish  man,  do  you  think  he  will  struggle  very  hard  to 
"pull  the  old  woman  through?''  I  fear  not.  If  he  is  a 
t'-ood  man  he  will  still  love  and  cherish  her  and  desire 
her  recovery;  but  if  he  be  the  first  you  will  not  have  his 
moral  support  in  your  battle  for  the  life  of  the  wife  and 
mother. 

I  have  seen  other  cases  like  this  : 

A  young  girl  marries  a  decrepit  old  man  for  his 
money.  She  is  young,  foolish  and  poor.  He  is  old, 
foolish  and  rich.  Here's  a  match.  He  wants  a  young 
wife  against  the  peach  bloom  of  whose  cheek  he  can  lay 
his  withered  and  scraggy  old  jaw.  He  dotes  on  her, 
buys    her  everything  and  pets  her.     She  tolerates  and 


Did  He  Kill  Hls  Wife  ? 


351 


waits  for  death  to  come  and  claim  his  own,  when  she 
expects  to  enjoy  hfe.  Death  does  come  at  last  and 
calls  upon  the  poor,  foolish  old  codger  to  "  kick  the 
bucket."  I  have  seen  those  heartless  and  almost  head 
less  3'oung  fillies  flit  about  the  house  in  a  restless  way 
and  look  in  occasionally  as  if  to  note  how  near  they  are 
to  "pay  day" — the  "pay  day  "for  which  they  sold 
themselves  in  their  beautiful  and  gushing  young  girlhood; 
and,  when  the  last  hour  came  and  the  toothless  old  mar- 

i  n  e  r  was 
heading  for 
the  "  shining: 
s  h  o  r  e,"  I 
have  seen 
those  same 
heartless 
things  stand 
around  and 
h  u  m  p  an  d 
shrug  their 
shoulders  and 

DEATH    DOES   COME,  AT    LAST.  try  t    O 

squeeze  the  bag  of  their  affections  for  just  a  little  lach- 
rymal moisture  ;  but  never  a  tear. 

T  have  never  had  but  one  case  in  which  I  felt  sure 
that  my  patient  was  killed  outright  while  under  my 
treatment ;  but  I  am  so  sure  of  it  that  I  am  going  to  tell 
about  it. 

In  my  early  practice  in  a  southwest  Missouri  town 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man    whom  I    shall  call 


352  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife? 

Jack.  Jack  came  west  from  Pennsylvania  in  the  great 
immigration  after  our  late  civil  war.  He  was  a  shoe- 
maker by  trade  and  a  born  villain.  He  was  born  and 
reared  in  the  slums  of  London.  He  was  about  five  feet 
four  in  height,  bow-legged,  hump  shouldered,  snaggle 
toothed,  and  had  a  face  as  mean  as  old  Ouilp's.  He  was 
up  in  dog  lights,  cock  fights,  prize  fights  and  all 
manner  of  brutal  and  inhuman  meanness.  He  took  the 
lowest  class  of  illustrated  papers  and  sat  and  gloated 
over  their  blood}'  records  and  obscene  pictures  by  the 
hour.  He  kept  one  of  those  white,  English  bull  dogs 
for  his  inseparable  companion.  The  dog  had  a  head  on 
him  like  a  sausage  grinder,  a  split  in  his  upper  lip 
through  whicli  his  teeth  shone,  and  his  tail  looked  like 
an  animated  and  abreviated  crow-bar.  When  you  en- 
tered Jack's  shop  and  found  him  on  his  bench  with 
"  BilP' (that  was  the  dog's  name)  sitting  by  his  side, 
you  mentally  exclaimed:  "Twins!  as  sure  as  I  am 
alive. 

There  was  a  prize  fight  in  our  county  once.  The 
parties  had  come  over  from  Kansas  to  avoid  arrest. 
The  news  got  out  the  day  before  in  some  way,  and 
while  there  were  several  who  would  have  enjoyed  the 
fight,  Jack  was  the  only  one  from  our  town  who  reached 
it  in  time.  He  arose  early  in  the  morning,  mounted  a 
pony  and  went,  by  what  could  be  called  nothing  else 
than  brute  instinct,  direct  to  the  spot. 

His  wife  was  just  his  opposite.  She  was  a  large, 
splendid  blonde,  taller  than  the  average  woman, 
weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty  or  seventy  pounds  ;  had 


Did  He  Kill  His  Wife?  353 

blonde  hair,  large,  beautiful  blue  eyes,  and  as  fair  a 
complexion  as  man  ever  beheld.  She  would  have  been 
called  a  pretty  woman  anywhere  on  the  earth. 

She  was  not  highly  educated,  but  had  had  some 
advantages,  for  a  poor  girl,  in  the  public  schools  of  her 
Eastern  home,  and  was  not  wholly  ignorant.  The  first 
time  I  ever  saw  her  she  was  suffering  from  "  a  fit  of 
gravel '' — the  passage  of  a  nephritic  caladus  from  the 
kidney  to  the  bladder.  It  is  a  painful  trouble  and  as  it 
was  the  first  case  of  the  kind  that  I  had  ever  seen  I  took 
some  credit  to  myself  for  having  made  a  correct  diagno- 
sis— the  pain  ceasing  suddenly  when  the  calculus  reached 
its  journey's  end,  as  I  had  predicted.  After  this  I  be- 
came Jack's  family  physican.  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  had  much  to  do  in  the  family  until  the  summer  of 
1870.  This  was  a  year  in  which  we  had  an  unusual 
amount  of  sickness  in  the  South-West.  The  country 
was  new,  much  prairie  had  been  broken,  the  streams  all 
overflowed  their  banks  in  June  and  the  summer  was  in- 
tensely hot. 

I  was  riding  day  and  night,  the  prevailing  sickness 
being  just  what  one  would  expect  from  the  conditions — 
severe  types  of  bilious  and  intermittent  fevers  ;  the  lat- 
ter taking  on  the  pernicious  or  congestive  forms.  Mrs. 
Jack  was  stricken  down  right  in  the  midst  of  my  busiest 
season.  Her  case  did  not  differ  in  any  material  degree 
from  other  cases  that  I  saw  every  day — a  day  or  two  of 
malaise^  backache,  headache,  boneache,  a  sudden  chill 
followed  by  a  rapid  rise  of  temperature  and  bilious  vom- 
iting.    One   to   three    visits    generally  sufficed    for  the 


354  ^^^  H^  Kill  His  Wife  ? 

worst  case.  A  dose  of  anti-bilious  powder  or  pills,  fol- 
lowed by  heroic  doses  of  quinine  did  the  work  in  short 
order. 

But  Jack's  wife  did  not  improve.  I  gave  her  the 
same  treatment,  in  the  main,  that  I  had  given  others, 
but  there  came  up  vague  and  indefinite  symptoms  which 
I  could  neither  meet  nor  comprehend.  After  this  state 
of  things  had  continued  for  several  days  I  was  bafBed 
and  asked  for  a  consultation.  Jack  did  not  want  a  con- 
sultation; had  all  confidence  in  me  and  desired  me  to 
continue.  Thus  flattered  and  encouraged  I  fought  on. 
As  I   left  the  house  one  afternoon  Jack  asked  me: 

^' When  will  you  be  back,  Darc..'^"  (He  always 
called  me  "Dare.''  for  "Doc") 

I  answered  that  I  would  try  to  be  there  at  nine 
o'clock  the  next  day. 

I  was  called  to  the  country  during  the  night,  and 
being  detained  did  not  reach  town  until  eleven  o'clock 
the  next  forenoon.  Dusty  and  hot  as  I  was  I  drove  di- 
rect to  Jack's  residence.  In  approaching  the  house  I 
saw  no  sign  of  life  or  living  thing  about  the  premises. 
When  I  entered  I  found  Mrs.  Jack  alone,  unconscious 
and  speechless.  She  was  cold  as  ice  to  her  elbows  and 
knees  and  was  bathed  in  a  profuse,  clammy  perspiration. 
Going  quickly  to  the  bed  I  took  hold  of  her  arm  and 
found  it  pulseless,  I  went  at  once  to  a  cross  fence  and 
called  two  or  three  neighboring  ladies,  sent  a  boy  for  a 
consulting  physician,  and,  learning  that  Jack  was  at 
"  the  shop,"  I  sent  another  for  him.  The  women  began 
making  mustard  draughts    under   my    direction  while  I 


Did  Hk  Kii,L  His  Wifk  ? 


355 


tried  to  get  some  diffusible  stimulus  down  the  patient. 
In  this  I  failed  as  she  either  could  not  or  would  not 
swallow.  In  a  few  minutes  I  saw  Jack  coming  through 
the  gate  with  that  slipping,  shambling,  uncertain  gait 
which  was  characteristic  of  him.  He  came  in  looking 
pale  and  anxious  and,  instead  of  going  directh'  to  the 
bed   and   speaking  to   his   wife,  he  sidled  over  to  an  old 


"ha,  ha,  ha,  ha-a-a-a-a  !" 
stool,  with  an    inquiring,  guilty   look  on  his  face.     (Oh, 
how  plainly  I  can  see  it  now!)  and  sat  down. 

"  How  is  she,  Darc..^" 

I  informed  him  of  her  dangerous  condition. 

When  she  heard  his  voice  she  seemed  to  be  momen- 
tarily aroused  from  the  state  of  unconsciousness  in 
which  I  had  found  her.  She  turned  her  head  and  glared 
slowly  about  until  she  located  him,  then  seemingly  gath- 
ering   all    her   waning   strength    in  one  last    effort  she 


356  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife? 

threw  her  feet  out  of  the  bed,  and  before  any  of  us  had 
suflficient  presence  of  mind  to  arrest  her,  she  came  to  a 
sitting  posture,  sHd  out  of  bed  and  walked  straight  to 
him.  She  stooped  and  shook  her  finger  in  his  face  and 
laughed  the  wildest,  weirdest  and  most  blood  curdling 
laugh  that  I  ever  heard  or  ever  expect  to  hear  again — 
'' ha,  ha,  ha,  ha-a-a-a-a ;"  and  then,  staggering,  would 
have  fallen,  had  I  not  caught  her.  Two  of  the  ladies 
assisted  m.e  in  getting  her  into  bed  again,  while  Jack 
sat  like  one  frozen  to  his  seat. 

She  died  in  less  than  two  hours. 

Well,  the  woman  was  dead  and  the  strangest  thing 
about  the  case  was  that  I  had  not  been  able  to  under- 
stand it. 

Within  a  week  or  two  Jack  came  to  me  with  one  of 
the  blanks  of  the  Charter  Oak  Insurance  Co.,  of  New 
York.  He  had  a  thousand  dollar  policy  on  her  life  for 
me  to  fill  out  and  sign.  1  filled  it  out  and  signed  it  and 
still  did  not  suspect  Jack.  The  idea  had  never  occurred 
to  me  that  I  knew  a  man  who  was  bad  enough  to  kill 
his  wife.  I  had  read  of  and  knew  there  were  such  men, 
but  I  thought  that  it  (like  the  lion  which  bites  the  man's 
head  off  in  the  menagerie)  always  occurred  at  some 
other  town. 

While  filling  out  the  blank  I  incidentally  asked 
Jack  if  the  company  was  a  good  one. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is  first  class.  I  know,  be- 
cause I  had  a  thousand  dollars  on  my  first  wife,  who 
died  in  Williamsburg,  Penn.,  and  they  paid  it  without  a 
word." 


Did  He  Kilt.  His  Wife  ?  357 

And  still,  young,  innocent  "  greeny  '"  that  I  was,  I 
did  not  suspect  him. 

Within  a  few  weeks  I  heard,  incidentally,  that  Jack 
was  abusing  me.  Said  I  had  neglected  his  wife — prom- 
ised to  come  at  nine  o'clock  and  did  not  get  there  until 
eleven  ;  did  not  understand  the  case  and  had  poisoned 
her. 

This  was  painful,  but  as  I  knew  that  every  doctor 
must  bear  this  sort  of  thing  when  ill  success  attends  him, 
I  tried  to  grin  and  bear  it.  My  inclination  was  to  break 
jack's  head  with  a  stick,  but  to  do  so  was  to  advertise 
my  own  failure,  and  give  prominence  to  and  perhaps, 
excite  sympathy  for  a  scoundrel.  So  I  gulped  down  my 
rage  and  waited. 

Jack's  conduct  is  plain  enough  now.  If  a  thief 
steals  your  horse,  although  you  may  not  know  it,  he  is 
your  enemy  the  next  day.  Often  when  men  commit 
great  crimes,  although  the  world  may  yet  be  in  igno- 
rance of  it,  they  at  once  go  about  measures  whereby 
they  may  shift  it  on  some  one  else.  In  doing  so  they 
often  proclaim  their  own  guilt.  This  is  the  secret  of 
much  successful  detective  work. 

On  September  20th,  1870,  I  started  to  New  York 
to  remain  all  winter.  I  went  via  Fort  Scott,  Kansas, 
and  via  the  Gulf  Road  to  Kansas  City.  I  had  to  lie 
over  at  Fort  Scott  for  a  train,  and  learning  that  there 
was  a  play  at  "  the  hall ''  with  the  '*  local  talent  "  of  the 
town  in  the  principal  characters,  I  went  with  some 
friends,  to  see  it.     As  I  took  m}'  seat  who  should  I  see 


358  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife? 

but  Jack  ?  He  was  maudlin  drunk  and  arose  with  a 
grin  and  an  obsequious  air  and  offered  his  hand. 

"  How  are  30U,  Dare?" 

I  took  his  hand  and  he  arose  and  departed.  Dur- 
ing the  play  there  was  a  commotion  behind  me  near  the 
top  of  the  stairway.  I  was  informed  that  the  officers 
were  putting  a  drunken  man  down  stairs.  When  the 
play  was  over  and  I  started  to  leave  the  hall  I  was  met 
at  the  door  by  two  carpenters  from  my  town  who  in- 
formed me  that  Jack  had  presented  a  cocked  revolver 
at  my  back  with  the  declared  intention  of  perforating 
me,  but  his  hand  had  been  staid  by  a  policeman  who 
disarmed  him  and  put  him  out.  Upon  his  promising  to 
behave  his  weapon  had  been  restored  to  him  and  he  had 
been  given  his  liberty.  My  informant  did  not  know 
where  Jack  was  at  that  moment,  but  thought  he  might 
be  looking  for  me.  This  was  not  pleasant.  I  prepared 
myself  as  best  I  could  from  my  scanty  armory  and  went 
down,  expecting  to  find  Jack  lying  in  wait  for  me,  and 
to  be  compelled  to  die  at  his  hands  or  skillfully  sever  his 
carotid  and  let  him  die  for  me. 

But  Jack  did  not  materialize  and  I  went  on  to 
New  York.  A  few  days  after  arriving  there  I  received 
our  local  paper  in  which  I  found  the  matter  referred  to 
somewhat  after  this  style  : 

"  We  regret  to  learn  that  our  fellow  townsman.  Dr. 
Willis  P.  King,  came  near  losing  his  life  at  the  hands  of 

the  notorious  Jack ,  at  Fort  Scott,  on  the  night  of  the 

20th,  inst.  As  our  readers  know,  Dr.  King  started  to 
New  York  on  that  day,  to  be  absent  all  winter.     Being 


Did  He  Kill  His  Wife  ? 


359 


compelled  to  lie  over  for  a  train  at  Fort  Scott  he  went 
to    the    theatre    with   some    friends  and  while  there  met 

the  notorious   Jack ,  of    this  place.     Jack  entertains 

some  sort  of  grudge  against  the  doctor  in  regard  to  the 
doctor's  treatment  of  his  wife  in  her  last  sickness.  Be- 
coming enraged  when  he  saw  the  doctor  he  presented  a 
cocked  revolver  to  the  latter's  breast,  but  it  was 
knocked  aside  just  in  time  to  save  his  life,"  etc.,  etc. 

This  was  not  correct  as  to  details,  but  as  near  the 
:ruth  as  the  local  reporter  often  gets  it.  Jack's  guilt 
dawned  on  me  at  last.  I  compared  his  pretended  sor- 
row over  his  wife's  death  with  the  cold,  formal  and  busi- 
ness manner  in  which  he  attended  to  the  collection  of 
her  life  insurance.  I  searched  for  a  motive  for  his  enmi- 
ty toward  me,  and  found  an  answer  in  his  own  guilt.  I 
was  now  satisfied  that  this  villain  had  deliberately  poi- 
soned his  wife  while  she  was  under  my  treatment  in  or- 
der to  get  the  insurance  money.  I  wrote  a  statement  of 
the  whole  matter  to  a  friend,  in  which  I  openly  charged 
Jack  with  wife  murder,  and  requested  my  friend  to  have 
it  published;  but  he,  being  a  cool  and  cautious  person, 
and  fearing  that  I  might  la}'  the  foundation  for  a  suit  for 
damages,  refused  to  do  so.  1  "  nursed  my  wrath  to 
keep  it  warm,"  and  waited.  I  returned  home  in  March, 
1871.  After  kissing  wife  and  babies  and  eating  my  din- 
ner I  went  up  town.  I  met  many  friends  on  the  street 
with  whom  I  must  shake  hands  and  pass  a  word  ;  but, 
shaking  them  off,  one  by  one,  I  finally  made  my  way  to 
Jack's  shop.  Jack  was  sitting  at  his  work  with  the 
"  twin  "  in    his    accustomed    place,    looking  more    like 


360  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife?. 

Jack's  brother  than  ever  before.  As  I  entered  Jack 
arose  with  an  abashed  air,  and  grinnin^^^  and  smirking, 
offered  me  his  hand. 

"  How  are  3'ou,  Darc..^"' 

I  put  my  hand  behind  me  and  said, 

"  No,  Jack,  3-ou  can't  shake  that  hand  until  you 
have  explained  some  things.'' 

Then  drawing  the  clipping  from  the  home  paper, 
before  referred  to,  from  my  pocket,  I  handed  it  to  him 
with  the  question: 

'' What  does  this  mean?'' 

Jack  looked  at  it,  colored,  grinned,  twisted  and 
squirmed  and  then  delivered  himself  after  this  manner : 

"  Oh,  well.  Dare,  you  know,  after  my  wife  died  I 
was  almost  craz}-.  Hi  didn't  know  w'at  I  was  doin'  'alf 
the  time,  you  know.  Of  corse  I  thought  you  didn't  come 
has  soon  as  you  bought  hon  the  day  she  died  ;  hand  I 
don't  know  w'at  hi  done  at  Fort  Scott.  Hi  was  drunk, 
you  knaw,  and  don't  remember  hany-think.  Dare,  you 
must  foro^ive  me  hand  look  hover  it  ?'' 

I  asked  him  to  sit  down.  When  he  did  so  the 
"  twin  "  took  up  his  position  alongside  and  I  was  more 
than  ever  struck  with  the  remarkable  resemblance  be- 
tween them.  As  they  grew  older  they  grew  more  and 
more  like  brothers. 

I  opened  my  long  pent-up  batteries  after  this 
fashion  : 

''  I  heard  a  good  deal  about  what  3'ou  were  saying 
about  me  before  I  went  awa}'  ;  but  I  paid  no  attention  to 
it.     I  also  heard  of    your  attempt,  or  pretended  attempt 


Did  He  Kill  His  Wife?  361 

to  assassinate  me  at  Fort  Scott.  I  admit  that  I  did  not 
understand  your  wife^s  case,  but  it  is  all  plain  to  me 
now.  You  have  said  that  she  was  poisoned  and  that  I 
did  It.  I  agree  with  you  in  one  part  of  that  statement. 
I  think  your  wife  was  poisoned,  but  I  didn't  do  it.  I 
know  who  did.  You  poisoned  your  wife,  Jack,  in  order 
to  get  the  insurance  mone}',  and  then  tried  to  throw 
suspicion  off  yourself  by  publicly  blaming  me. 

Now,  if  you  open  your  mouth  about  me  again  ;  if 
you  even  so  much  as  crook  your  finger  at  me,  I  will 
either  have  you  arrested,  or  I  will  blow  your  brains  out; 
I  don't  care  much  which.  I  am  prepared  to  blow  your 
brains  out  now,  if  you  are  not  very  quiet." 

In  all  my  life  I  have  never  seen  such  an  exhibition 
of  guilty  cowardice, 

"  Oh,  now.  Dare,  you  don't  think  hi  would  do  that, 
do  you  ?" 

"  I  do  not  only  think  you  would,  but  I  feel  sure  you 
did,''  I  answered. 

He  begged  and  implored.  He  didn't  want  such  a 
scandal.  It  would  be  bad  for  both  of  us,  and  he  thought 
we  had  better  say  nothing  more  about  it. 

And  so  we  parted. 

And  now  the  pale  faced  young  person  who  has 
been  reading  this  chapter  rises  up  and  asks: 

"And  did  you  have  him  arrested.'^'' 

No  I  did  not. 

"Why  not?" 

There  were  many  reasons  :  Our  county  was  in  the 
district  that  had  been  burned    and    depopulated  during 


362  Did  He  Kill  His  Wife  ? 

the  war.  Our  treasury  was  empty  and  poor.  It  would 
have  taken  at  least  one  thousand  dollars  to  exhume  Mrs. 
Jack,  and  send  her  stomach  where  a  reliable  chemical 
analysis  could  be  made  and  then  bring  the  chemist  to 
our  court  to  testif3\  I  knew  that  our  court  could  not 
make  the  appropriation.  I  was  too  poor  to  undertake 
it ;  and  to  have  undertaken  it  and  made  a  failure — 
which  we  most  probably  would  have  done — would  have 
set  Jack  at  liberty  with  the  S3'mpathies  of  the  commu- 
nity in  his  favor  and  I  would  have  been  disgraced  and 
hurt  beyond  recovery. 

Jack  was  already  married  again,  but  his  wife  was  so 
sickly  that  I  am  sure  he  could  not  obtain  a  policy  on  her 
life.  She  soon  died  and  Jack  was  also  "gathered  to  his 
fathers,"  (if  he  ever  had  any)  and  to  his  victims  whom  I 
am  sure  he  had.  I  say  "  victims  '''  because  I  am  fully 
persuaded  that  he  had  also  poisoned  his  first  wife  at 
Williamsburg,  Penn. 

I  do  not  know  what  became  of  "  the  Twin,'  but 
considering  the  time  that  has  elapsed  and  the  average 
age  of  dogs  I  am  led  to  hope  that  he  also  has  been 
"  orathered  to  his  fathers. '^  I  think  this  narrative  sufFi- 
ciently  answers  the  heading  of  the  chapter  in  the 
affirmative. 

^^Did  he  kill  his  wife?" 

I  think  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE. 


NECESSITY  FOR  MORE  EDUCATION — THE  SOUTHWEvST — MY 
OWN  TRIP — MY  ILIy  FITTING  CLOTHES — MY  PLUG  HAT  AND 
THE  OLD  MAID — MY  REVENGE — THE  OYSTER  SUPPER  WITH  OB- 
SERVATIONS ON  THE  HEATHEN. 

Za^/Zg  HERE  is  nothing  that  the 
aspiring  country  doctor 
looks  forward  to  with  more 
eager  desire  than  that  of 
being  able  to  once  more  at- 
tend college  and  "  bright- 
en up."  He  has  received 
his  medical  education,  per- 
haps, at  some  point  where 
clinical  advantages  were 
not  good  ;  and  while  he 
had  medicine  in  all  its  de- 
partments pounded  into 
him  day  by  day  in  didactic  lectures,  yet,  he  has  not  seen 
much  practice  until  he  first  approached  the  bed  side  un- 
aided and  alone.  He  has  practiced  for  years,  has  poured 
over  volume  after  volume  of  medical  lore  and  thereby 
learned  a  great  deal.  There  are  weak  points  in  his 
practice,  however  ;  there  are  great  mysteries  attached 
to  the  cases  of  people  who  have  died  which  he  desires  to 
have  cleared  up.      He  wants  to  learn  surgery  and  some- 


364  Going  Back  to  College. 

thing  of  the  specialties.  So,  year  after  year  he  prom- 
ises himself  that  he  will  go  East  and  take  another 
course. 

Finally  he  does  get  ready.  He  packs  his  clothing 
and  his  books  and  starts  for  the  nearest  point  on  the 
nearest  railroad.  He  feels  queer.  He  knows  that  he  is 
going  amongst  a  people  who  have  always  lived  in  the 
metropolis.  They  are  supposed  to  be  learned  about  the 
ways  of  the  world,  to  be  dressy,  and  smart  in  all  things 
which  pertain  to  life  and  business.  As  he  approaches 
the  great  city  to  which  he  is  going  he  feels  more  and 
more  queer  and  out  of  joint  with  the  world.  He  discov- 
ers that  they  do  not  wear  clothes  like  his,  and,  if  he 
looks  closely  he  will  find  that  people  on  the  cars  are 
pointing  at  him  and  smiling  occasionally.  He  thinks  he 
will  go  out  on  the  platform  of  the  car  and  avoid  criti- 
cism for  a  while  for  he  knows  that  he  is  being  criticised. 
As  he  rises  he  treads  on  the  spittoon  and,  in  trying  to 
recover  himself,  he  stumbles  and  almost  falls  over  an  old 
woman's  satchel  and  his  hat  falls  off.  In  trying  to  re- 
cover his  hat  he  runs  the  end  of  a  car  seat  into  the  ca- 
pacious pocket  of  his  linen  duster  and  tears  it  out,  He 
goes  out  and  stands  on  the  platform  and  hates  himself 
for  being  so  awkward. 

It  is  amusino;  to  sit  in  the  lecture  rooms  of  the 
oreat  schools  in  those  Eastern  cities  and  see  the  new  fel- 
lows  come  in.  You  can  tell  those  from  the  far  West 
and  Southwest  the  moment  you  see  them.  Their 
dress  is  so  outlandish  and  their  manners  so  awkward 
that  one  would  think  that  they  could   not  possibl}'  learn 


Going  Back  to  College.  365 

anything.  And  yet  you  will  iind  many  brainy  fellows 
amongrst  them.  Tennessee  and  Arkansas  and  south 
west  Missouri  used  to  send  the  hardest  looking  lot  on 
first  appearance  of  any  states  in  the  Union  ;  but  in  two 
months  they  would  have  their  hair  cut,  put  on  Eastern 
style  clothing-  and  generally  proved  in  the  end  to  be  the 
smartest  men  in  the  class.  They  almost  always  worked 
like  beavers  and  when  the  time  came  to  be  examined 
they  acquitted  themselves  with  the  very  highest  honors. 
As  soon  as  the  awkwardness  of  home  and  country  life 
wore  off,  they  were  as  polished  in  their  manners  as  so 
many  French  counts. 

We  don't  know  whether  our  clothes  fit  or  not  until 
we  have  a  chance  to  compare  them  with  other  clothes 
that  do  fit.  Where  nobody's  clothes  fit,  everybod3'''s 
clothes  fit.  I  suppose  that  a  Chinaman  thinks  his  clothes 
fit,  and,  no  doubt  they  do — in  China.  At  least,  no  one 
has  a  chance  to  know  that  his  clothes  do  not  fit  until  he 
sees  clothes  that  do  fit. 

I  remember  well  my  first  trip  to  New  York.  I  had 
been  practicing  in  the  rural  districts  remote  from  a  rail- 
road for  many  3'ears.  The  styles  didn't  change  with  us 
very  often.  When  I  was  getting  ready  to  go  away,  I 
had  my  tailor  cut  and  make  me  a  new  suit.  I  learned 
afterward  that  my  tailor  was  a  discharged  section  hand 
from  a  railroad  a  hundred  miles  away. 

The  suit  was  very  fine,  I  thought,  so  fine,  indeed, 
that  I  secretly  contemplated  entering  Gotham  in  a 
fashion  that  would  set  up  an  epidemic  of  paralysis  among 


366  Going  Back  to  Coi.i.ege. 

the  best  dressed  people  there.     I  also  bought  me  a  new 
•'  Plug  "  hat — "  the  latest  out  "  m}'  hatter  said. 

I  discovered  long  before  I  reached  my  destination 
that  there  was  something  wrong  with  my  clothes.  I  at- 
tracted almost  as  much  attention  as  Sitting  Bull  or  the 
Chinese  Embassador.  At  first  I  was  vain  enough  to 
think  that  it  was  my  personal  beauty  or  my  command- 
ins:  fiijure  that  was  attractinsf  all  this  attention.  I  soon 
discovered  my  mistake.     It  was  my  clothes. 

I  reached  Jersey  City  at  last  and  crossed  the  ferry. 
I  told  the  hackman  to  drive  me  to  the  Astor  House. 
This  was  the  only  hotel  in  the  city  that  I  had  ever  heard 
the  name  of.  After  going  through  the  trial  of  getting 
my  supper  and  going  to  bed,  I  slept  soundly,  notwith- 
standing the  great  noise  of  the  great  city,  for  I  was 
tired. 

I  arose  the  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  and 
descended  to  my  breakfast.  I  noticed  people  looking  at 
me  and  talking  low.  I  supposed  they  were  pickpockets 
who  were  preparing  to  rob  me. 

I  had  my  money  in  one  boot  and  a  bowie-knife  in 
the  other.  I  expected  to  make  the  knife  leg  defend  the 
money  leg  and  then  let  the  money  leg  buy  the  knife  leg 
out  of  the  difficulty.  I  went  on  the  street  for  the  pur- 
pose of  inquiring  the  way  to  Belle vue.  There  was  an 
immense  crowd;  such  a  crowd  as  I  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. The  side  walks  were  packed  on  both  sides  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  with  a  moving  mass  of  humanity, 
most  all  of  them  going  south.  The  streets  were  filled 
with  vehicles  of  every  kind.     I  asked  an   old  gentleman 


Going  Back  to  College.  367 

if  there  was  a  fire  anywhere.  He  explained  that  these 
were  business  and  working  people  going  "  down  town  ■' 
to  their  places  of  business  and  labor.  I  attempted  to 
cross  the  street,  through  this  moving,  interminable  mass 
of  vehicles.  I  started,  faltered  and  then  turned  back. 
■It  will  confuse  any  man  to  pick  him  up  from  the  deep 
silence  of  the  great 'prairies  and  set  him  down  amid  the 
rush  and  hurry  of  Broadway  in  about  sixty  hours. 

I  waited  until  a  big  policeman  conducted  some 
ladies  across  and  fell  into  their  wake  and  crossed  in 
safety.  I  was  so  confused  and  excited  by  the  effort, 
however,  that  I  ran  into  a  sharp  faced,  sour  looking 
man  as  soon  as  I  reached  the  other  side  and  almost 
upset  him, 

"  Great  Heavens!"  said  he,  "  what  ails  you  ^ 

He  was  gone  before  I  could  explain. 

Then  some  very  elegant  and  benevolent  looking 
gentleman  grabbed  me  and  insisted  on  taking  me  into  a 
store  and  selling  me  some  "  cheap  clothing."  I  had  had 
a  suspicion  for  a  day  or  two  that  my  clothes  didn't  fit  as 
they  should.  I  now  became  painfully  aware  of  the  fact 
that  they  didn't  fit  at  all.  My  pants  were  too  short  and 
when  I  sat  down  they  drew  up  at  the  bottoms  in  front 
half  way  to  my  knees,  and  the  side  seams  ran  directly 
down  over  my  knee  cap.  My  coat  was  long  in  the 
waist,  short  in  the  tail  and  the  collar  insisted  in  reaching 
up  and  holding  on  to  my  occipital  protuberance,  and  my 
vest  was  baggy  and  unreliable.  My  new  hat — "  the  lat- 
est out  '' — was  just  seven  3'ears  out  of  date.  The  rim 
was  narrow  and  stuck    straiirht  out    all    around  and  the 


368  '  Going  Back  to  Coli^ege. 

body — which  was  unusually  long — tapered  toward  the 
crown.  The  hat  touched  my  head  in  just  three  places 
— at  the  frontal  eminences  in  front  and  at  the  occipital 
protuberance  behind.  No  Swedish  emigrant  that  ever 
landed  in  Castle  Garden  could  possibly  present  a  more 
ludicrous  appearance  than  I  did.  I  struggled  valiantly- 
with  the  kind  hearted  clothing  man  and  finally  got 
away.  I  had  heard  of  these  fellows  and  didn't  want  to 
trade  with  them.  I  slunk  around  and  tried  to  dodge  the 
crowd  until  I  met  a  policeman.  I  asked  for  an  Ameri- 
can clothing  house.  He  kindly  showed  me  the  way. 
Here  I  was  fitted  out  in  a  good,  neat,  well  fitting  suit. 
I  put  them  on  then  and  there.  The  good  gentleman 
from  whom  I  made  my  purchase  took  me  across  the 
street  to  a  hat  store  where  I  bought  a  new  plug  which 
was  a  la  mode.  Then  I  asked  for  a  barber  shop  and 
was  shown  that.  M}-  hair  was  dense,  long  and  shockey, 
and  I  had  two  little  spikes  of  a  goatee,  one  on  each  cor- 
ner of  my  chin. 

When  I  took  my  seat  in  the  chair  the  barber  asked 
me  if  I  wanted  my  hair  cut  and  I  answered  that  I  did, 
badly.     How  would  I  have  it  cut  ? 

"■  Clean  this  stuff  off  my  chin  and  cut  my  hair  in  the 
New  York  style.  Skin  my  head,  scalp  me,  do  anything 
you  please;  but  be  sure  it  is  in  the  style,''  were  my 
orders. 

After  he  was  through  with  me  I  went  back  to 
Broadway,  took  the  right  side  of  the  street,  walked  fast, 
popped  my  heels  on  the  side  walks  and  plowed  the  peo- 
ple on  either  side    like   an  ocean    steamer  and  in    two 


Going  Back  to  College.  369 

hours  was  a  thoroughly  converted  New  Yorker.  At 
least,  I  thought  I  was;  for  the  gazing  stopped. 

What  a  glorious  time  the  country  doctor  has  in  the 
great  city.  He  sits  under  the  droppings  of  the  sanctu- 
ary— at  the  feet  of  the  masters  in  his  profession — and 
has  the  cobwebs  brushed  away  from  his  beclouded  mind 

The  mysteries  are  cleared  up  in  the  clinics  and  he 
goes  to  his  room  every  night  filled  to  the  muzzle  with 
new  facts  and  new  ideas.  On  Sunday  afternoons  he 
'•  takes  in  the  sights  "  about  the  great  city  and  walks  his 
country  legs  off  on  the  hard  pavements.  When  he 
goes  home  in  the  spring  he  is,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, another  man  in  his  knowledge  and  in  the  self  con- 
fidence which  that  knowledge  brings.  He  is  another 
man  in  his  dress  and,  perhaps,  in  his  manners. 

He  goes  home  all  ''  dressed  up  "  and  his  own  family 
scarcely  know  him. 

I  wore  my  new  hat  all  winter  and,  when  I  went 
home  in  the  spring  I  bought  me  another — the  finest  and 
best  1  could  buy  on  Broadway.  I  just  made  the  dressy 
men  sick  with  my  new  hat  in  my  poor  country  town 
where  the  styles  never  came  until  they  had  gone  out 
everywhere  else.  Everybody  envied  that  hat,  and  I 
only  wore  it  on  high  occasions  and  then,  I  confess  that  I 
harbored  a  secret  pleasure  in  making  other  people  feel 
bad. 

"  Pride  goeth  before  a  fall,"  and  so  it  did  in  this 
case.     I  thought  too  much  of  that  hat. 

I  wore  it  one  night  in  May  to  a  strawberry  festival 
at  "  the  hall."     It  was  a  church  festival  and  the  whole 


370  Going  Back  to  College. 

town  was  out  to  enjoy  it.  The  church  people  had  sent 
the  boys  to  the  woods  and  had  them  cut  and  bring  in 
young  green  trees  and  had  set  them  up  all  around  the 
walls. 

I  found  a  nice  place  amongst  the  branches  of  the 
bushes  to  put  my  hat,  and  so,  put  it  away.  After  eating 
strawberries  and  cream  and  promenading  awhile,  my 
wife  desired  to  go  home.  We  went  around  to  get  my 
hat. 

There  were  two  old  maids  from  Boston  who  were 
teachinir  writing  school  in  our  town  at  the  time  and  I 
found  them  sitting  on  a  bench  just  under  the  place  where 
I  had  hung  ni}'  hat.  They  were  typical  New  England 
old  maids — tall,  slender,  angular,  sarcastic  and  grave. 
They  had  both  reached  that  period  in  old  maidenhood 
when  a  woman  gives  up  the  idea  of  marrying  and  so 
puts  in  a  goodly  portion  of  her  time  for  the  remainder  of 
her  life  in  hating  the  brute  man.  I  think  that  the  sight 
of  a  pair  of  pants  on  a  clothes  line  would  have  thrown 
either  one  of  them  into  a  fit  of  hydrophobia.  They 
were  sitting  on  this  bench  as  stiff  and  prim  as  wooden 
images  and  looked  like  a  pair  of  exclamation  points  at 
the  end  of  a  sentence.  I  reached  for  my  hat  and  it 
wasn't  there.  I  felt  uneasy  as  I  saw  one  of  the  old 
maids  begin  to  twist  and  wriggle  about  a  little.  I  re- 
marked that  one  of  the  boys  had  probably  worn  my  hat 
out. 

"Are  you  looking  for  your  hat  ?"  asked  the  one 
with  the  wriggle . 

I  answered  that  I  was. 


Going  Back  to  CoIvLEGE. 


371 


She  raised  up  and  deliberately  put  her  hand  behind 
her,  and,  without  looking  back  or  down,  brought  out  a 
shapeless  mass  of  back  fur  and  stuff  which  no  one  but 
an  expert  would  have  recognized  as  even  the  remains 
of  a  plug  hat. 

"  Is  this  it  ?"  said  she  with  a  voice  and  air  which 
seemed    to    mean  that  she  had  been  saving  it  for  me; — 

and  she  had. 
She  had  saved 
itsure  enough. 
She  had 
pressed  it, and, 
if  she  had  had 
time,  I  sup- 
p  o  s  e  would 
have  pickeled 
it.  Th  e  t  op 
of  the  crown 
was  crushed 
down  into  the 
rim  and  the 
[*^j^  rim  broken 
clear  across  on 

"OH,  NO,  IT  IMPROVES  A  PLUG  HAT  TO  SIT  ON  IT!"  both  sidcS.        I 

inspected  it  with  blood  in  my  eye  and  a  frog  in  my 
throat. 

"Why,  it's  ruined,  ain't  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  answered  "  it  improves  a  plug  hat  to 
sit  on  it." 

She  manifested  no  further  interest  in  the  matter, 


372  Going  Back  to  College. 

but  projected  her  iron  jaw  a  little  and  continued  to 
inspect  and  criticise  the  promenaders.  I  had  never  laid 
violent  hands  on  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  but  it  would 
have  done  me  good  to  have  mopped  the  floor  with  this 
old,  animated  telephone  pole.  I  went  down  the  hall 
steps  in  three  jumps  and  the  next  morning  gave  my  hat 
to  a  negro  to  saw  a  half  cord  of  wood.  I  had  not  even 
then  surrendered  the  idea  that  that  hat  had  some  sort  of 
value  attached  to  it ;  but  now,  I  feel  that  I  cheated  the 
poor  negro. 

What  on  earth  the  woman  wanted  to  sit  on  the  hat 
for  I  have  never  been  able  to  divine.  If  the  hat  had  had 
a  galvanic  battery  in  it  I  could  understand  it;  but  it  had 
none.  However,  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  I  suppose 
she  really  did.  I  made  up  my  mind  then  and  there  to 
have  my  revenge.  ISIy  first  thought  was  to  wreak  it  on 
old  maids  in  general  ;  but  I  soon  saw  that  that  would 
not  do.  It  would  not  do  to  make  good  and  kind-hearted 
old  maids  suffer  for  what  this  miserable  old  scare-crow 
had  done. 

There  was  nothing  left  but  to  take  it  out  of  festivals. 
It  was  at  a  festival  that  my  hat  and  heart  had  been 
crushed.  It  was  the  delusive  temporary  forest  that  had 
tempted  me  to  hang  my  nice  hat  where  I  did.  So  from 
that  day  I  became  a  "festival  fiend.'"  I  went  to  all  the 
festivals.  I  went  early  and  late  and  went  early  and  re- 
mained late.  I  would  dart  in  on  them  at  most  unusual 
hours  and  seek  opportunities  to  do  something  that  would 
spread  consternation  amongst  the  prime  movers  of  these 


Going  Back  to  College.  373 

snares  and,  if  possible,  make  everybody  feel  bad.  [ 
never  missed  one  when  I  could  get  there. 

My  revenge  came  at  last.  In  another  town  I  found 
the  time  and  means  of  wreaking  my  revenge. 

I  ran  in  to  a  festival  in  a  church  basement  one  night 
about  midnight.  It  was  late  and  most  of  the  good 
things  were  gone. 

There  was  still  a  considerable  crowd  ;  and  all  the 
ladies  who  expected  to  see  their  names  in  the  papers 
next  morning  as  "  presiding  at  the  table ''  were  there. 

I  sat  down  at  the  table  and  thought  about  my  hat. 
The  crowd,  the  promenading,  the  music — everything 
carried  me  back  to  that  loved  but  crushed  hat.  The 
ladies  crowded  around  and  all  wanted  to  take  my  order. 
I  wanted  oysters,  for  this  was  the  worst  of  all  the  festi- 
val snares — an  "03'ster  festival. '^ — as  if  the  oysters 
were  having  the  feast  instead  of  the  folks.  A  sprightly 
and  kind  hearted  lady  took  my  order.  She  came  back, 
and  set  my  dish  down  with  a  great  flourish.  It  was  a 
big  plate  of  thin,  sickly  looking  soup  with  one  little  crip- 
pled oyster  in  it. 

She  went  away  to  get  some  dish  water  for  some 
other  late  comer,  and  I  sat  and  looked  straight  across 
the  table.  I  didn^t  vary  my  gaze  to  the  right  or  leff", 
but  gazed  steadily  and  vacantly  in  front  of  me.  No  one 
seemed  to  notice  me,  but  I  still  gazed.  I  was  deter- 
mined to  attract  attention,  and  I  finally  did.  My  kind 
hearted  friend  in  her  rounds  noticed  me  in  passing.  She 
watched  me  for  a  moment  and  then  made  a  plunge 
at  me. 


374  Going  Back  to  College. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Doctor?  Can't  you  eat 
your  oysters  ?''  ("  oysters  "  mind  you,  in  the  plural,  and 
she  knew  she  had  brought  but  one.)  "  Won't  you 
have  something  else  ?'' 

"  No,  madam,"  I  answered.  "I  do  not  wish  an}'- 
thing  else.*' 

'*  Well,  why  don't  you  eat  your  oysters  ?''  "  Oys- 
ters "  again,  3-ou  see. 

"  Why,  I  was  just  moralizing,"  I  said,  still  gazing 
intently  in  front  of  me. 

"  Moralizing!"  said  she.  "What  were  you  moral 
izing  about.'"' 

By  this  time  a  large  crowd  of  the  ladies  had  gath- 
ered around  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  I  said,  "  about  the  difference 
between  cultivated  and  Christianized  people  and  those 
who  are  not." 

"  W^ell,  what  is  the  difference  ?"  asked  a  half  dozen, 
expecting  to  get  some  compliment  or  fact  which  they 
could  use  in  "  converting  the  world." 

"  Well,"  I  went  on,  "  there  are  those  unchristian 
and  heathen  people  who  keep  restaurants.  I  go  there 
some  times,  I  am  sorr}'  to  say.  I  am  obliged  to,  for  we 
don't  have  church  festivals  open  on  the  streets  every 
day.  Now,  when  I  call  for  oysters  there  they  will  bring 
me  a  whole  dozen  on  one  plate.  They  do  this,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  they  know  oysters  will  fight 
and  claw  each  other  when  two  or  more  are  put  together 
on  a  plate.  But  what  do  the}'  care  ?  Their  sensibili- 
ties have  never  been  cultivated  or  heightened  by  a  Chris 


Going  Back  to  College. 


375 


tian  life  and  they  don't  care  if  the  oysters  tear  each  oth- 
er's eyes  out.     Na— o  ! 

"  Now,  when  I  come  here  you  ladies  bring  me  one 
oyster,  because  you  know  if  you  put  more  than  one  on  a 
plate  they  wjll  fight  and  you  can't  stand  it  to  see  blood- 
shed, even  among  oysters." 


"now,  eat  your  supper  and  keep  your  mouth  shut. 
They  each  seized  a  plate  and  flew  to  the  other  end 
of   the   room  where  the  oyster  soup  (mostly  soup)  was 
made.     Then  they  halted  and  consulted. 


376  Going  Back  to  College. 

They  stuck  their  chins  out,  and  wagged  their  heads 
and  I  could  catch  fragments  of  sentences  Hke  this: 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  who  he  is  ;"  "  Don't  care  if  he 
does — hateful  thing;"  "For  my  part,  Pd  let  him  go," 
etc.,  etc. 

But  my  kind  friend  seized  the  ladle  and  went  to 
delvnnof  down  into  the  broth.  She  brouirht  me  two 
dozen  oysters,  and  emptying  them  in  my  dish  said  : 

"  Now,  eat  your  supper  and  keep  your  mouth 
shut." 

I  did.  But  I  was  revenged  for  the  loss  of  my  plug 
hat,  at  last. 

But,  to  return  to  our  mutton.  It  may  be  that  my 
Western  and  Southwestern  brethren  may  take  umbrage 
at  my  criticism.  If  you  do,  dear  friends,  please  note 
that  I  have  made  myself  the  awkwardest  of  the  "  awk- 
ward squad." 

Now,  in  1890,  you  do  not  find  men  coming  from  the 
West  looking  so  peculiarly  dressed  and  awkward  as 
heretofore;  for  the  railroads  have  penetrated  every- 
where within  the  last  fifteen  years.  And  where  they  go 
the  styles  go.  The  railroads  and  telegraph  annihilate 
space,  in  a  measure,  and  bring  people  a  thousand  miles 
apart  almost  to  each  other's  doors 

I  can  not  conclude  this  chapter  without  urging  my 
country  reader  to  go  to  the  great  centers  every  five  or 
six  years  and  take  a  few  months  of  lectures  and  clinics. 
We  all  get  into  ruts  and  need  prying  out.  Every  man 
who  practices  the  healing  art  owes  it  to  himself,  and 
more  especially  to  those  who  give  him  charge  of  their 


Going  Back  to  College.  377 

sick  bodies,  to  keep  abreast  of  the  times  in  his  proession. 
Too  much  honor  can  not  be  paid  to  the  noble  men 
in  our  large  cities  for  their  work  in  lecturing  and  writ- 
ing and  keeping  the  "smaller  fry  ^'  in  the  profession 
from  going  into  the  "  dry  rot."  It  may  be  argued  that 
they  do  what  they  do  from  selfish  considerations.  This 
may  be  true  of  some  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is  not  true  of 
all.  But,  whatever  the  motive  may  be,  the  work  is  done 
and  we  poor  fellows  in  the  backwoods  reap  the  benefit  of 
it — if  we  will — and,  in  the  end,  our  patients  also  get  the 
benefit. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY. 

THE  TRUE  PHYSICIAN — THE  DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  QUACKS 
— THE  GENTLEMANLY  QUACK — THE  SMART  PRETENDER — THE 
PROFESSIONAL  BUZZARD  OR  "jIM  CROW"  DOCTOR — "ABDOMINAL 
DIGITALIS  AND  AORTIC  REGURGITATION — DOCTOR  CONNECKTIE 
AND  DR.  GULLUS. 


N  order  to  present  the  quack  in  his 
true  light,  let  us  first  see  what  man- 
ner of  man  the  true  physician  is,  so 
that,  by  the  outlines  of  his  symmet- 
rical character,  the  former  may  be 
made  to  stand  out  in  all  his  ugly  de- 
fer mi  t}'. 

The  true  physician  is  a  man  of 
good  moral  character.  His  conduct 
is  such  that,  with  those  who  know 
him  best,  there  is  no  doubt  about  it. 
His  acts  are  the  acts  of  a  noble,  true 
and  unselfish  man,  who  means  to  do 
right  not  only  by  himself,  but  by  all  with  whom  he 
comes  in  contact.  He  is  a  man  of  knowledge  and  is  not 
tent  with  what  he  already  knows,  but  is  constantly 
and  persistently  trying  to  know  more.  He  takes  and 
reads  the  best  literature  of  his  profession,  and  would  at 
any  time  stint  his  stomach  or  cheat  his  back  of  a  new 
coat  in  order  to  buy  a  new  book,  written  by  one  of    the 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  379 

masters  in  the  profession.  He  tries  to  familiarize  him- 
self with  every  form  of  disease,  and  to  arm  himself  with 
the  best  weapons  with  which  to  meet  and  vanquish  the 
enemy.  As  an  honest  man,  he  feels  it  his  bounden  duty 
to  do  this.  He  feels  that  if  he  should  do  less  he  would 
be  recreant  to  his  duty  and  unfaithful  to  the  trust  im- 
posed upon  him  by  his  profession.  He  is  a  brave  man, 
and  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  born  warrior. 
While  he  is  as  tender  as  a  woman  with  everything  that 
is  sick,  and  that  suffers,  yet,  when  occasion  requires  it, 
he  is  as  courageous  as  a  lion,  and  does  not  shrink  from 
his  duty,  even  though  his  own  life  be  in  danger.  From 
the  depths  of  a  kind  heart,  made  kinder  and  tenderer 
through  contact  with  suffering,  he  lays  his  hands  kindl}- 
and  tenderly  upon  all  who  are  unfortunate  and  need  kind- 
ness and  pity;  and  yet,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties, 
he  can  inflict  pain  in  order  to  save  life,  and  his  brave 
heart  does  not  quail  even  in  the  face  of  defeat  and  death. 
He  makes  no  pretension  to  knowledge  that  he  does  not 
possess,  and  when  he  does  not  know  a  thing,  will  admit 
that  he  does  not.  In  times  of  epidemics,  when  death  is 
upon  every  hand  and  the  community  is  being  scourged 
as  by  fire,  while  others  flee  to  places  of  safety  and  seek 
refuge  where  the  contagion  comes  not,  he  takes  his  place 
with  his  people,  and  goes  quietly  where  others  dare  not 
enter — where  the  seeds  of  typhoid,  cholera,  yellow  fever 
and  small-pox  are  rank  in  the  air  ;  and  yet  he  fears  not. 
Duty  with  him  is  ever^-thing,  and  death  is  preferable  to 
dishonor. 

He  knows  the  weaknesses  and  faults  of    the  people 


380  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

whom  he  treats,  and,  Hke  a  true  man,  hides  them  away 
from  the  world  in  the  innermost  recesses  of  his  heart, 
and  is  not  burdened — for  secrets  are  a  burden  to  those 
only  who  desire  to  tell  them. 

He  does  his  work  for  the  reasonable  remuneration 
that  is  fixed  by  his  fellows  and  sanctioned  by  law,  and 
does  not  make  bargains  and  collect  fees  in  advance  that 
burden  the  poor,  and  for  which  he  may  never  render  ad- 
equate services.  He  does  not  promise  to  cure  anything- 
and  ever3'thing  in  order  to  get  a  case;  in  fact,  he  prom- 
ises very  little,  but  does  a  great  deal  where  to  do  an}-- 
thing  is  possible.  He  is  closely  identified  with  ever}'- 
thing  in  his  community  which  goes  toward  elevating  hu- 
manity, and  which  tends  to  ennoble  and  dignify  human 
character.  In  short,  the  true  physician  is  an  upright  and 
true  man ;  a  worker  and  a  seeker  after  the  good  things 
attainable  ;  is  honest  and  unselfish,  and  a  doer  of  good 
deeds  through  all  his  life ;  and  when  he  gets  old  and  too 
frail  to  work  longer,  he  can  sit  down  with  the  satisfying 
thought  that  he  has  done  all  that  it  was  possible  for  him 
to  do  in  his  sphere.  He  meets  his  fellows  with  head 
erect  because  he  is  not  ashamed,  and  when  death  comes 
he  goes, 

"  Not,  like  the  quarry  slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approaches  his  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

But  what  shall  I  say  of  the  quack  ?  How  shall  I 
describe  him.'*     He  presents  himself  in  so  many  different 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  381 

forms  that,  like  the  chameleon,  he  is  liard  to  describe. 
In  order  to  properly  describe  him,  I  shall  be  compelled 
to  divide  him  and  describe  him  under  different  heads. 

Webster  defines  the  word  quack  as  follows:  "A 
boaster;  one  who  pretends  to  skill  or  knowledge  which 
he  does  not  possess."  We  give  it  a  much  broader  mean- 
ing than  this.  We  apply  the  term  not  alone  to  the  ig- 
norant boaster,  but  to  any  man  who  attempts  to  prac- 
tice medicine  without  being  well  grounded  in  the  funda- 
mental facts  underlying  an  intelligent  practice  ;  and 
even  when  a  man  is  competent,  if  he  is  guilty  of  irregu- 
lar practices,  and  resorts  to  illegitimate  methods  to 
obtain  a  practice,  we  denounce  him  as  being  guilty  of 
quackery. 

The  gentlemanly  quack  may  or  may  not  be  a  grad- 
uate, but  he  is  a  gentlemanly  man.  He  starts  out  in  his 
professional  career  with  good  prospects  ;  but  he  is  like  a 
wasp — larger  when  he  is  born  (graduates  or  begins) 
than  he  ever  is  afterward.  He  is  a  person  who  attains 
to  the  full  height  of  his  intellectual  and  professional  man- 
hood early  in  life,  and  afterward,  instead  of  growing  and 
broadening,  he  begins  to  dwarf,  and  soon  becomes  pro- 
fessionally mummified.  He  does  not  attend  medical 
societies,  and  does  not  study;  never  buys  a  new  book, 
and  does  not  take  a  medical  journal.  He  does  not  "  be- 
lieve in  medical  journals,"  and  thinks  that  they  "  do  a 
doctor  more  harm  than  good.''  He  soon  forgets  every- 
thing that  he  ever  knew;  makes  up  a  jumbled  anatomy, 
physiology  and  pathology  of  his  own,  then  goes  into  a 
rut  and  consistently  stays  there.     When  in  consultation 


382  Quacks  and  Quackery 

he  will  accept  j-oiir  diagnosis  without  a  murmur,  although 
it  may  overturn  all  that  he  has  been  compelled  to  sa}'  of 
or  to  do  in  the  case  ;  and  when  you  are  gone  he  will  go 
rieht  back  to  his  own  treatment,  and  stick  to  it  until  the 
patient  dies.  He  can  not  see  why  the  patient  did  not 
get  well,  because  about  all  the  people  that  he  ever  saw 
recover  did  so  under  that  identical  treatment.  "  Bilious 
attacks  ''"'  and  ''malaria"  are  the  favorite  diseases  of  this 
man.  All  other  diseases  he  conveniently  divides  into 
"  lung  diseases,"  "kidney  affections,''  and  "  liver  com- 
plaints.'' For  the  tirst  he  gives  compound  syrup  of 
squills  ;  for  the  second,  sweet  spirits  of  nitre  ;  and  for 
the  third,  calomel,  podophylin,  or  nothing,  according  to 
the  school  he  represents.  When  he  is  not  able  to  locate 
the  disease,  he  bombards  the  liver  on  general  principles. 
He  gives  calomel,  day  in  and  day  out,  in  obstruction  of 
the  "common  duct"  of  the  gall  bladder,  anddiuretics  in 
retention  of  the  urine  from  strictured  urethra.  This 
same  fellow  sits  by  the  bed  of  the  parturient  female  for 
four  or  five  days,  in  cases  of  cross  presentation  and  diffi- 
cult labor  from  any  cause,  because  he  "  believes  in  let- 
tinsT  nature  take  its  course,"  and  sits  around  like  a  knot 
on  a  log  and  lets  women  die  from  post-partem  hemor- 
rhage, because  he  does  not  "■  believe  in  meddlesome  mid- 
wifery." This  man  is  a  good  collector;  takes  whet- 
stones, fiddles,  cows,  calves,  second-hand  furniture,  and 
tow  linen  and  tallow  for  his  pay,  and  turns  it  all  over  to 
the  best  advantage  without  ever  discovering  that  nature 
cut  him  out  and  fitted  him  for  a  junk-dealer  and  a  rag  man. 
Perhaps  the   best   thing  that  can    be   said  for  this 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  383 

creature  h,  that  he  goes  through  his  whole  professional 
life,  and  iinally  dies  without  discovering  the  fact  that  he 
has  killed  from  ten  to  twenty  people  every  year. 

The  smarl  pretender  is  a  different  man  from  the 
foregoing.  He  is  a  loud  man.  There  is  nothing,  if  you 
will  believe  him,  that  he  does  not  know.  He  has  spe- 
cifics for  everything  and  actually  cures  people,  no  mat- 
ter what  the  disease  is.  He  gets  through  college  cheap, 
practices  medicine  cheaper  than  anybody,  and  is  alto- 
gether a  cheap  man.  He  gets  practice  by  sending  word 
that  he  can  cure  the  case,  has  cured  many  just  like  it. 
He  makes  a  diagnosis  off-hand  and  at  long  range,  with- 
out having  seen  the  case  or  even  heard  much  about  it. 
This  man  is  unfitted  by  nature  for  the  noble  and  exalted 
duties  of  the  physician,  because  he  is  shallow,  does  not 
know  anything,  and  is  incapable  of  knowing  much.  He 
is  naturally  a  coward  and  a  liar,  and  no  coward  and  liar 
ever  made  a  good  doctor.  He  seeks  practice  for  the 
basest  and  most  selfish  reasons,  and  indeed  is  never  actu- 
ated by  lofty  and  unselfish  motives.  This  fellow  is  trans- 
parent even  to  the  laity,  and  is  compelled  to  seek 
"greener  fields  and  pastures  new"  quite  often.  He 
may  take  a  new  place  by  storm,  but  he  is  too  weak  to 
"hold  the  fort"  very  long. 

We  have  also  the  professional  buzzard.  This  is  the 
weakly,  watery-eyed,  red  nosed  old  scarecrow,  who  at 
some  time  in  his  early  life  has  gotten  hold  of  several 
recipes  which  he  considers  valuable,  and  he  is  therefore 
induced  to  give  suffering  humanity  the  benefit  of  them. 
He  is  poor  and  mangy  and  mean,  and  hangs  upon  the 


384  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

outskirts  of  the  profession  just  as  the  coyote  and  the  buz- 
zard hang  upon  the  outskirts  of  a  battle  field — picking 
up  whatever  he  can.  He  is  greasy  and  pinched,  has  a 
breath  of  benzine  and  a  general  odor  of  unchanged 
linen.  He  slinks  naturally  from  the  true  members  of 
the  medical  profession,  always  comes  into  the  drug- 
store by  the  back  door  if  he  can  get  in  that  way,  and 
learns  all  that  he  knows  about  new  remedies  from  the 
drug  clerk.  He  can  not  write  a  prescript^ion,  and  he 
has  a  decided  weakness  for  "  yarb-medicines,''  which  he 
gives  in  the  form  of  "slops  and  teas."*  He  pours  this 
stuff  down  his  dupes  with  about  the  same  idea,  I  imag- 
ine, that  a  hired  girl  pours  dish-water  down  a  rat-hole — 
that  of  filling  a  vacuum  and  killing  time.  This  wretched 
and  dismal  old  fraud  does  not  do  much  harm,  however, 
for  the  reason  that  the  people  whom  he  kills  are  very 
much  like  himself — making  better  fertilizing  material 
when  dead  than  citizens  while  living. 

The  advertising  qiiack  and  swindler  is  the  worst  of 
the  lot.  He  is  the  black  wolf,  aye,  the  Bengal  tiger  of 
the  profession.  He  is  ignorant  as  a  ph3'sician,  but  not 
an  ignorant  man  by  any  means  He  is  full  of  shrewd- 
ness and  cunning,  and  knows  poor,  weak  human  nature 
like  a  book.  He  has  within  him  all  the  elements  that 
go  to  make  the  successful  gambler,  three-card  monte 
man,  or  burglar.  He  may  have  his  little  trouble,  as  all 
people  do,  but  it  is  not  with  his  conscience.  His  office 
(which  is  generally  a  fine  one)  is  a  sort  of  bunco-shop, 
into  which  the  i^jnorant  and  credulous  are  inveiiJ^led  and 
mercilessly  swindled.     He  chooses  the  practice  of  medi- 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  385 

cine  as  a  profession  instead  of  burglary  because  the  law- 
protects  him  in  the  one,  and  does  not  protect  him  in  the 
other.  His  office  is  hung  with  forged  diplomas,  and 
with  pictures  representing  surgical  cases  upon  which  he 
claims  to  have  operated,  but  did  not ;  and  his  pigeon- 
holes are  full  of  certificates  of  cure,  written  and  signed 
by  himself.  He  knows  the  value  of  printer's  ink,  and 
uses  it  liberally.  He  advertises  to  cure  all  diseases,  both 
acute  and  chronic  ;  and  he  makes  a  specialty  of  diseases 
of  the  eye,  ear,  throat,  nose  and  lungs,  diseases  of  the 
mind  and  nervous  system,  diseases  of  children,  con- 
sumption, piles,  gynaecology  and  fits.  He  fills  his  own 
prescriptions  to  prevent  the  exposure  of  his  shallow  pre- 
tenses, and  tells  his  gaping  victims  that  his  medicines 
cost  ten  dollars  per  ounce  and  more,  and  that  he  sends 
to  New  York,  Boston  and  foreign  countries  for  much  of 
it.  He  is  the  discoverer  and  sole  proprietor  of  the  nev- 
er-failing cancer  remedy  and  world-renowned  cure  for 
consumption.  He  treats  pimples,  boils  and  local  skin 
eruptions  as  cancer.  He  sets  a  high  price  upon  his 
work,  and  always  gets  one-half  in  advance,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, a  bankable  note  for  the  remainder. 

No  age,  sex,  or  condition  in  life  is  safe  from  the 
wiles  of  this  scoundrel  and  mountebank.  He  is  master 
of  all  the  arts  by  which  he  can  get  a  hold  upon  the  un- 
fortunate and  suffering,  and  when  they  are  once  in  his 
power  he  is  as  mercil'ess  as  a  pirate.  He  will  undertake 
a  case  of  consumption  at  the  brink  of  the  grave,  will  col- 
lect money   in  advance,  and    rob    widows    and    orphans 


386  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

with  the  promise  of  doing  something  that  he  knows  he 
can  not  do. 

He  is,  in  brief,  professionally  an  ignoramus,  natur- 
ally sharp,  cunning,  cruel,  a  thief,  a  cowardl}^  robber  and 
a  merciless  pirate,  a  murderer  and  a  villain  so  black  and 
damnable  that  the  English  language,  in  its  utter  weak- 
ness,  fails  to  furnish  words  with  which  to  paint  him. 

Compared  with  such  a  man,  thieves,  garroters,  bur- 
glars and  train-robbers  become  decent  and  respectable. 
It  requires  courage  of  a  certain  kind  to  burglarize  a 
house  or  a  bank,  and  it  requires  courage  of  a  much 
higher  order  to  rob  a  train ;  but  it  does  not  require  any 
courage  at  all  to  rob  a  sick  man.  It  requires  nothing 
but  a  heart  devoid  of  pity,  and  a  nature  supremely  self- 
ish and  regardless  of  the  rights  and  interests  of  others. 
Sustained  by  the  fact  that  no  law  exists  by  which  he  can 
be  punished,  such  a  villain,  after  having  won  the  confi- 
dence of  his  victim  b}'  his  specious  promises,  takes  the 
last  dollar  or  the  last  piece  of  property,  and  enjoys  his 
ill-gotten  gains  to  his  heart's  content,  while  there  is  no 
one  to  "molest  or  make  him  afraid." 

As  before  remarked  the  old  "Jim  Crow  "  doctor 
does  not  do  a  great  deal  of  harm  except  among  his  own 
kind — the  ignorant.  I  have  heard  gentlemen  in  the 
profession  say  that  they  thought  this  class  of  so-called 
doctors  a  necessity — that  they  take  the  rgnorant  and 
non-paying  classes  off  the  intelligent  and  competent  phy- 
sicians hands.  There  may  be  sonrething  in  this  when 
v/e  look  at  it  from  a  purely  practical  standpoint.  But, 
I  am  not  willing  to  admit    that  ignorance  is    necessary 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  387 

anywhere  in  this  hfe.  I  am  more  especially  disinclined 
to  admit  that  ignorance  is  necessar}^  to  deal  with  the 
sick  and  the  afflicted.  Ignorance  is  not  a  crime  and  can 
not,  therefore,  be  legally  punished.  If  it  could  be  the 
infliction  of  the  death  penalty  through  the  intervention 
of  a  quack  doctor  would  be  rather  severe,  to  say  the 
least.  But,  I  still  insist  that,  so  long  as  these  ignorant 
fellows  are  permitted  to  work  slaughter  through  their 
ignorance  and  incompetence  then  it  were  better  that  this 
slaughter  be  confined  to  those  who  are  the  least  benefit 
to  the  world.  Let  us  save  the  good  and  the  useful  if  we 
can  not  save  all. 

I  have  seen  and  heard  enough  funny  things  concern- 
ing these  ignorant  quacks  to  fill  a  volume.  Here  is 
one  : 

In  a  small  town  where  I  once  practiced  there  was 
an  old  fellow  who  was  quite  innocent  in  his  way  except 
for  the  murders  he  committed  in  trying  to  practice  med- 
icine. He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  anatom}^  phy- 
siology or  pathology,  and  was  just  as  innocent  of  any 
knowledge  concerning  the  therapeutic  value  and  action 
of  drugs.  He  had  a  nose  that  had  suffered  from  rosacea 
so  long  that  it  looked  like  an  old,  haggled  and  chewed 
up  beet,  one  of  his  eyes  was  of  the  fried  ^gg  variety  ;  but 
he  always  maintained  an  air  of  respectability  by  wearing 
a  frayed  plug  hat. 

He  was  always  slipping  in  by  the  back  door  of  the 
drug  store  and  holding  consultations  with  one  of  the 
clerks.  This  clerk  really  made  out  and  filled  most  of 
the  doctor's   prescriptions  for  him  after  the  doctor  had 


388 


Quacks  and  Quackery. 


detailed  the  symptoms  in  the  case.     This  was,  no  doubt, 
better  for  the   patient,  for  the  clerk  was  sure   not  to  rec-  . 
ommend  or  use  any  dangerous   drugs,  while  the  doctor, 
if  left  to  himself,  might  do  so. 

One  of  our  physicians  overheard  the  following  con- 
versation between  a  facetious  drug  clerk  and  this  quack, 

while    the 


clerk  was 
helping  him 
on  one  of  his 
prescriptions: 

"Clerk: 
"Doctor,  I 
suppose  that 
you  have  per- 
f  o  r  m  e  d  a 
great  m  a  n  y 
surgical  o  p- 
erations  i  n 
your   time.  " 

"Quack: 
"Oh,  y  es,  a 
great    many. 

"OH,   YES,    I    HAVE   CURED  THAT  TOO."  "C  1  C  r  k  : 

"Doctor,  I  have  long  since  desired  to  find  a  surgeon  who 

has  performed  a  certain  operation — an  operation   which 

has  only  been  performed  a  few  times,  I  believe." 

"Quack.   "What  operation  is  it.^" 

Clerk:  "It  is  the  operation  of  abdominal  digitalisr 

"Quack.     '-Oh,  yes,   I   have    done  that    operation 


( 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  389 

twice;  but  the  doctors  in  this  town  will  not  give  me 
credit  for  it." 

"Clerk:  "There  is  another  operation  that  I  wish  to 
ask  about  (and  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  performed 
it),  and  that  is  aortic  7'--eg2n^gitation."' 

''Quack:  "Yes,  I  have  done   that  too,  over  at 

town.     Oh!  I   tell  you,  it's  an  awful  bloody  operation." 

After  all  of  my  experiences  with  quacks  and,  after  a 
good  deal  of  observation  and  devoting  much  thought  to 
the  consideration  of  the  matter  I  feel  constrained  to  say 
that  the  honest  men  in  the  medical  profession  would  have 
destroyed  him  long  ago,  if  the  public  and  the  press  had 
permitted  them  to  do  so. 

The  general  reader  may  not  be  prepared  to  be- 
lieve this;  but  it  is  true  nevertheless.  I  will  furnish  a 
case  or  two  in  proof.  There  came  to  the  town  where  I 
then  lived  several  years  ago,  one  of  the  brazenest  and 
most  blatant  advertising  quacks  that  I  ever  saw.  He 
took  up  fully  one  half  of  the  local  advertising  space  of 
the  best  local  paper,  and,  besides  this,  issued  a  half-sheet 
each  morning.  He  was  Dr.  P.  Walter  Connecktie(this 
will  do  for  a  name)  '"'•late  of  London,"  late  of  the  Hos- 
pitals of  New  York  City,  late  of  Charity  Hospital,  New 
Orleans''  etc.  etc.  In  short  he  was  the  late  Dr.  Conneck- 
tie.  Ah,  reader,  look  out  for  these  late  fellows.  The 
doctor  who  is  '■'•late,''''  from  half  a  dozen  places  ^'^soon  be 
late  from  your  town,  just  as  soon  as  he  gets  all  the  money 
that  the  credulous  and  gullible  are  ready  to  part  with. 
The  ''late''"'  doctor  is  never  so  'Hate'''  that  he  does  not  get 
a  part  of  the  money  that  all  the  fools  have  in  the  course 


390  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

of  his  travel.  This  fellow  took  in  the  ducats  from  every 
direction — foolish,  weak  and  sick  people  paying  $25  to 
$100  for  a  single  prescription.  Our  medical  society  fin- 
ally had  him  arrested,  as  he  had  failed  to  register  accord- 
ing to  law.  When  he  went  before  the  justice  he  was 
told  that  if  he  could  show  a  diploma  from  a  reputable 
school  he  would  yet  be  permitted  to  register  it  and  would 
not  be  fined.  He  stated,  with  much  blandness,  that  he 
had  a  diploma,  but  that  it  was  at  the  house  of  his  broth- 
er, in  Louisiana,  and  his  brother  usually  went  duck  hunt- 
ing about  that  time  of  year,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to 
get  it,  so  he  preferred  to  pay  his  fine!  After  this  he  did 
his  practice  through  a  local  quack  who  had  registered, 
and,  in  four  weeks,  took  awa}'  from  the  little  town  ove?' 
thi'ee  tJioiisaiid  dollars.  This  fellow  wore  a  plug  hat  and 
fire  escape  whiskers,  drove  out  in  a  fine  buggy  behind  a 
pair  of  spanking  grays  each  afternoon  and  was  an  object 
of  wonder  and  admiration  to  every  fool  in  town,  and  yet 
he  couldn't  have  located  the  liver  at  three  guesses  if  his 
life  had  depended  on  it. 

Soon  there  came  another  fellow.  He  was  one  of  the 
lecturing  kind.  He  would  lecture  one  night  to  ladies, 
the  next  to  men  alone,  and  the  next  to  a  mixed  audience. 
I  went  around  one  night  out  of  curiosity.  I  found  him 
to  be,  in  person  and  manner,  a  sort  of  cross  between  the 
"single  footed  exhorter''  at  a  revival  meeting  and  the 
hand  shaking  politician.  He  was  a  voluble,  oozy,  slopp}', 
tearful  fellow — one  of  those  men  who  could  easily  over- 
flow his  banks  in  the  dryest  season  on  very  short  notice. 

His  subject  this  night  was  "Human  Kindness.''     He 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  391 

treated  it  about  as  an  ordinary  one  horse  preacher  would 
have  done,  and,  after  he  got  himself  properly  wound  up 
he  told  the  following  story,  said  he: 

"My  friends,  we  are,  very  few  of  us,  as  kind  as  we 
should  be;  and  many  of  us  neglect  our  duty  to  the 
poor  and  deserving.  I  will  relate  an  incident  which  will 
illustrate  this  point.  When  I  was  young  I  had  a  very  dear 
brother.  He  was  one  of  the  noblest  and  best  boys  I  ever 
saw.  He  and  I  always  played  together  and  what  was 
the  joy  of  one  was  the  joy  of  the  other,  and  what  was 
the  sorrow  of  one  was  shared  by  the  other.  But  we 
grew  to  manhood  and  went  out  into  the  world,  each  to 
work  out  his  own  fortune.  Our  inclinations  led  our 
paths  far  apart.  While  he  was  yet  young  he  sickened 
and  died  in  a  town  in  Ohio.  I  was  far  away  and  could 
not  be  present  to  drop  a  tear  on  my  beloved  brother's 
bier." 

At  this  point  I  noticed  that  several  handkerchiefs 
went  up  to  eyes  to  wipe  away  tears.     He  went  on: 

"But  I  always  desired  to  see  the  place  where  m}'  be- 
loved brother  slept.  This  desire  haunted  me  every- 
where I  went.  Finally  I  was  in  that  part  of  Ohio  lec- 
turing; and,  being  near  this  town,  I  took  the  train  on  a 
Saturday  and  arrived  there  at  night.  I  put  up  at  the 
hotel;  but  I  could  not  sleep,  for  I  was  near  the  ashes  of 
the  brother  I  had  loved  so  much.  The  next  morning  I 
arose  and  after  breakfast,  I  went  to  church  as  I  always 
do  when  I  have  an  opportunity."  Here  the  most  pious 
people  looked  at  each  other  and  nodded  as  much  as  to 
say,  "that's  the  kind  of    a  doctor  I  like.'" 


392  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

He  continued:  ''After  dinner  I  prepared  to  visit  the 
grave  of  my  poor,  dead  brother.  While  I  was  getting 
ready  the  bell  of  one  of  the  churches  tolled  the  funeral 
knell.  I  naturally  asked  who  was  dead,  and  from  a  per- 
son who  knew  the  facts  I  elicted  the  following  remark- 
able story:  Several  3'ears  previous  to  this  time  there 
had  come  to  this  town  a  steady  and  intelligent  mechanic, 
bringing  with  him  his  wife  and  children.  They  were 
good,  religious  people,  but,  unfortunately,  through  evil 
association,  the  husband  contracted  the  drinking  habit. 
He  went  from  bad  to  worse  until,  finally,  his  little  sav- 
ings were  all  gone  and  he  was  such  a  hopeless  and  de- 
graded drunkard  that  he  could  not  procure  work.  At 
last  he  died  in  the  gutter  and  filled  a  drunkard's  grave. 
His  family  were  left  helpless  and  destitute,  but  the  brave 
Christian  mother  toiled  on,  doing  whatever  she  could 
find  to  do  and  lovingly  keeping  the  little  flock 
together.  At  last,  from  sheer  want  little  Willie  died, 
and  after  him  little  Anna,  and  finally  little  Johnny. 
There  were  none  left  now  but  the  brave  mother  and  little 
Mary;  and,  finally  that  dread  disease,  consumption,  seiz- 
ed the  poor  mother  and  the  bell  that  I  heard,  tolled  her 
funeral  knell. 

I  went  out  to  the  cemetery,  and,  after  a  little  search 
I  found  my  brother^s  grave.  I  knelt  down  and  reverent- 
ly thanked  the  Lord  that  he  had  permitted  me  to  find 
the  spot  where  the  bones  of  my  dear  brother  and  the 
companion  of  miy  3'outh  rested." 

More  tears  here  and,  hence,  more  handkerchiefs. 

"Isatdown,"  he  continued,  "and  let  my  mind  revert 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  395 

to  the  time  when  as  boys  this  brother  and  I  wandered 
over  hill  and  dale  and  gathered  the  wild  flowers  and 
laughed  in  our  bo3'ish  glee,  unmindful  of  what  the  future 
had  in  store  for  us,  and  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  our 
little  feet  which  trod — " 

Here  the  doctor  broke  down  and  got  out  his  own 
handkerchief,  while  there  was  general  weeping  and  blow- 
ing of  noses.  The  reference  to  "little  feet"  drew  my  at- 
tention to  the  doctor's,  and  I  noted  that  they  were  now 
almost  as  large  as  fiddle  boxes!  After  violently  blowing 
his  nose  he  resumed: 

"While  I  was  sitting  there,  and  just  as  the  sun  was 
sinking  in  the  west,  afuneral  cortege  wound  its  way  slow- 
ly into  the  grave-yard.  There  was  no  hearse — only  a 
common  wagon — and  only  a  few  mourners.  There  was 
one  poor,  little,  ragged  and  half  starved  girl — about 
twelve  3^ears  old,  whom  I  felt  sure  was  little  Mary.  She 
was  the  only  real  mourner  and  she  was  weeping  as  if 
her  little  heart  would  break.  They  went  to  that 
part  of  the  grave-3'ard  which  I  knew  was  the  "Potter's 
Field,"  and  there  laid  the  poor  form  to  rest,  and  then 
they  departed.  I  still  sat,  watching  the  sun  as  he  sank 
to  rest,  and  thinking  of  the  unhappiness  that  is  brought 
into  the  world  by  strong  drink,  until  the  dusk  of  evening 
was  upon  me,  when  1  arose  to  go.  As  I  did  so  I  heard 
a  choking,  sobbing  sound  in  the  direction  of  the  new 
made  grave.  I  quickly  wended  my  way  thither  and 
there,  crouched  upon  the  little  mound,  was  the  starved 
and  ragged  form  of  little  Mary — clinging  frantically  to 
the  earth    that  covered    the  form    of  her   dear  mother; 


394  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

left   alone    in  the  world  to  starve  and  die,  with  no  one  to 
help  her,  and  no  one  to  love." 

Here  the  "doctor"'  slopped  over  again  and  went  for 
his  handkerchief — in  which  act  a  large  part  of  the  aud- 
ience joined,  while  I  looked  around  to  see  if  I  could  find 
a  rock  or  a  rotten  egg  ! 

''I  took  her  by  the  hand  and  gently  lifted  her  up. 
After  a  little  resistance  she  went  with  me.  I  took  her 
to  the  hotel  and  had  her  cared  for,  and  the  next  day, 
after  getting  her  some  new  clothing,  I  took  her  to  an- 
other town  w^here  I  had  some  wealthy  relatives;  and  at 
my  solicitation  they  adopted  her  and  gave  her  a  splendid 
education,  and  now  she  is  a  refined  and  Christian  lad}' — 
one  of  the  noblest  and  best  in  the  state  of  Ohio." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  story  those  who  had  been 
drawing  on  their  lachrymal  sacs  gave  their  noses  a  final 
squeeze  and  the  doctor  went  on  to  another  part  of  his  sub- 
ject. 

As  the  audience  went  out  I  met  two  excellent  and 
kind  Christain  ladies — both  friends  and  patrons  of  mine — 
whose  eyes  showed  evidence  of  having  been  recentl}'  sub- 
jected to  a  severe  mopping.     One  of  them  asked: 

''Doctor,  don't  you  think  Doctor  Gullus  is  a  good 
man?" 

'•No,"  I  answered,  "I  dont  think  he  is." 

"Why,  doctor,  what  makes  you  say  that.'"' 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "because  no  good  man  is  a  liar 
and  this  fellow  is.  He  is  one  of  the  worst  I  ever  saw, 
because  he  lies  about  things  which  ought  to  be  held  as 
sacred." 


Quacks  and  Quackery.  395 

"Why,  doctor,  what  makes  you — 

"  Wait,"  said  I,  "  we  can't  talk  here.  Will  you  do 
me  the  kindness  to  call  at  my  office  tomorrow  ?  If  you 
will  I  will  explain  myself." 

They  both  promised  ;  for,  in  addition  to  having  their 
curiosity  aroused,  I  had  some  right  to  make  demands  on 
their  time,  for    I  had    slept  in  chairs  in    both  of   their^ 
houses,  and  held  my  finger  on  the  pulse  of  the  little  one 
when  the  issue  was  doubtful. 

True  to  their  promise  they  came  the  next  day. 
After  upbraiding  me  for  my  hard-heartedness  and  ap- 
parent rudeness  the  night  before,  they  demanded  that  I 
should  tell  them  what  I  meant. 

"  Now,  dear  friends,"  I  began,  "  you  heard  that 
story  about  the  little  girl,  did  you  not,  and  noted  every 
point  in  it  ?" 

Yes,  they  thought  they  had. 

"  Did  you  notice  anything  inconsistent  in  the 
story?" 

No,  they  didn't  think  they  had. 

"Well,  now,"  said  I,  "listen.  We  will  suppose  that 
this  terrible  tragedy  took  place  in  this  town.  You  two 
ladies  were  among  those  who  visited  this  family  in  all 
their  poverty  and  terrible  afflictions.  You  were  with 
the  mother  in  the  last  death  agony,  and  held  poor,  little, 
starved  and  ragged  Mary's  hand  when  the  last  earthly 
prop  was  swept  from  under  her.  You  were  in  the 
funeral  cortege  that  went  to  the  "  Potter's  Field,"  and. 
after  laying  the  poor,  wasted  form  away,  you  turned 
around   in  the  dusk  of    the  evening,  and  left  poor  little 


396  Quacks  and  Quackery. 

Mary  lying  on  her  mother's  grave,  and  you — two  good 
Christian  ladies — marched  back  to  town!  Mary  is  left, 
not  only  out  in  the  world,  but  out  in  the  cemetery,  half- 
starved  and  poorly  clad  and  night  coming  on.  Do  3'ou 
believe  such  a  miserable  lie  as  this  concerning  any  of  the 
people  of  any  town  in  Ohio  ?  I  am  not  an  Ohio  man; 
but  I  desire  to  come  to  their  defense.  I  know  it  is  not 
true,  and  were  I  an  Ohio  man  I  should  ^^^  that  scoun- 
drel before  he  leaves  tov/n,  or  I  would  make  him  swal- 
low his  hypocritical  lie.  Why,  the  Hottentots,  the  wild 
Indians  of  the  plains,  would  not  be  guilty  of  such  an  out- 
rageous thing!" 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  awhile  and  one  of 
them  spoke : 

"  Jennie,  I  guess  we  made  miserable  fools  of  our- 
selves.'' 

The  other  assented  and  added : 

''  Oh,  I  could  just  take  a  stick  and  break  his  head," 

A  woman  always  gets  mad  if  she  finds  that  she  lias 
cried  at  the  wrong  time! 

"Well,  what  made  him  tell  such  a  stor}?" 

"  Because  he  knew  that  there  were  a  great  many 
people  who  would  make  miserable  fools  of  themselves," 
I  answered. 

And  he  did  know.  These  fellows  know  human 
nature  like  a  book — better  than  3'ou  and  I,  reader. 

We  had  him  arrested  and  he  beat  us.  Why.^ 
Because  the  public  and  the  press  were  almost  unan- 
imously against  us.  He  had  subsidized  the  one  and 
"bamboozled"  the  other.      He  went  away  taking  with 


Quacks  and  Quackery. 


397 


him  about  $4,000  of  fools'  money,  and  at  the  next 
town  a  poor,  weak  woman,  who  had  left  her  family 
and  followed  him  from  town  to  town,  committed  suicide 
because  of  the  hopelessness  of  her  love  for  this  gentle 
and  tender — robber. 


OTTO  FLEnniNQ 

1009  Arch  5treet 

fmiladelfhia,  fa. 


Manufacturer  of  Electric  Apparatus,  for  use  in 
Electro-Therapeutics,  Gynscology  and  Surgery. 
Stationary  and  Portable  Apparatus  for  Faradic  and 
Galvanic  Currents,  or Galvano Cautery.  Milliampere 
Meters,  Current  Controllers.  Applying  Electrodes 
in  all  varieties.     Repairing. 


/IN  InPORTflNT  NEW  WORK 

i         i       JM5T  PUBLISriEb 
Tlie  Practical  Hpplicalloii  or  Electricity  in  illeliciiie  aql  Sotgery, 

By  Dr.  n.  W.  ST.  cLmn,  in.  D. 

Cloth,  l2mo,  236  pages,  about  70  illustrations. 

What  has  already  been  said  of  this  most  excellent  work,  a  copy  of  which  should  be  in  the  hands 
of  ever  practitioner  :— The  Times  and  /J^g-zrfifr.of  Jannarysi,  1891,  speaks  of  it  as  follows  :  "Throughout, 
Dr.  St.  Clair's  work  is  filled  with  practical  hints  It  reminds  us  of  Munde's  Minor  Surgical  Gynaecology 
in  many  respects.  What  is  included  under  the  name  of  ■  experience '  is  what  this  book  supplies  to  the 
novice.  To  any  of  our  readers  who  intend  to  buy  a  battery,  but  have  never  used  electricity,  or  paid  any 
special  attention  to  this  potent  agent,  we  would  say,  '  Procure  Dr.  St.  Clair's  book  and  read  it  before 
you  invest  in  this  expensive  apparatus.'  " 


Copies  mailed  prepaid  to  any  address,  oi|  receipt  of  price,  $a.oo 
Address,  R.  H.  Andrcws,  M.  D., 

Editor  and  Proprietor  of  The  Medical  Summary 

P.O.BOX   1217,   PHILADELPHIA,   PA. 


*i 


YALE"  SURGICAL  CHAIR. 


The  only  Chair  in 
which  all  the  move- 
ments kHOwu  to  mod- 
ern surgical  and  gyniv- 
cological  work:  are 
combined  in  a  single 
chair;  new  and  valua- 
ble features  that  no 
other  chair  possesses  It 
is  simple  in  mechan- 
ism, strong  in  con- 
struction, beautiful  in 
design  and  easily  un- 
derstood and  operated. 
Send  for  large  Cat- 
alogue. 


Fijf   I— Ni>riual. 


A  few  of  the  positions  are :  nor- 
mal, reclining,  senii-reclininj}, 
horizontal,  I  length,  dorsal,  Sim's 
right  or  left  lateral,  oblique,  dorsal  ^^ 
with  hips  raised  side  tilt,  raising 
or  lowering,  chloroform  narcosis, 
rotating,  etc  ,  etc. 


Fig.  IX — Oliloroforiu  Narcosis. 


COULD  DENTAL  CHAIR. 


A.  new  invention,  giving 
new  positions  heretofore  un- 
known in  a  Dental  chair  and 
which  make  it  to-day  the 
most  popular  operating  chair 
on  the  market;  strong,  light, 
firm,  simple  to  understand 
and  easy  to  operate,  and  at  a 
price  within  the  reach  of  every 
demist.  Send  for  Catalogue 
with  prices. 


Fig.  VII  — Iligliest  Positioa 

Canton  Surgical  and  Dental  Chair  Co., 

62,  64  and  66  East  Seventh  Street, 

CANTON,  OHIO. 

Manufacturers  of  Gould  Dental  Chairs,  "Yale" 
Surgical  Chairs,  Fletcher  Fountain  Spittoon* 
Wilcox    Spiral    Dental    Engines,     Duplex    CorO 


Fig.  XIV— Chloroform  Nart-osis    Dental  Engines,  Etc.,  Etc  ,  Etc. 


PONCA  COMPOUND 

A  Uterine  Alterative  Especially 
Affecting  the  Mucous  Surfaces. 


Metritis, 
Endo-Metritis, 
Subinvolution, 
Menorrhagia, 
Metrorrhagia, 
Leucorrhoea, 
Dysmenorrhoea, 
Ovarian  Neuralgia, 
Threatened  Abortion, 
Suppressed  Menses, 
Painful  Pregnancy, 
After-Pains. 


"Ponca  Compound  exercises  a  decided  and 
specific  alterative  action  upon  the  uterine 
tissues  as  also  a  general  tonic  influence  upon 
the  Pelvic  Organs : — It  has  a  tendency  to  absorb 
plastic  deposits,  to  regulate  the  vascular  sup- 
ply, to  relieve  congestion,  to  tone  up  the  nerve 
forces,  to  regulate  the  bowels,  and  to  remove 
spasmodic  conditions.  In  most  instances  it 
eradicates  the  principal  influences  that  cause 
and  keep  up  engorgements,  displacements,  etc., 
and  can  al"ways  be  relied  upon  as  the  chief 
factor  in  bringing  about  normal  conditions." 

Each  tablet  contains  Ext.  Ponca,  3  grs.;  Ext.  Mitchella 
Repens,  I  GR.;  Caulophyllin,  ^gr  ;  Helonin,  J4gr.;  VirburmNj^gr. 

Ponca  is  a  small  plant  growing  on  the  south-western  prairies 
and  is  used  by  the  Indian  women  for  troubles  of  the  uterus  and 
its  appendages,  on  account  of  a  strong  alterative  action. 

100  TABLETS  WILL   BE    MAILED    UPON    RECEIPT  OF  $1.00 

TONGALINE 

Possesses  a  peculiar  affinity  for  viscid  secretions,  neutralizing  and 
eliminating  them  through  the  natural  channels.  It  is  diaphoretic, 
laxative,     anti-septic,    anti-neuralgic,     and     anti-rheumatic,    hence     is 

HEADAOHE. 

"I  prescribed  Tongaline  for  a  lady  who  has 
suSei'ed  exceedingly  with  Headache  for  several 
years.  The  pain  is  mostly  confined  to  the  top  of 
the  head,  and  continues  often  for  24  hours,  unless 
she  is  thoroughly  narcotized  by  an  opiate.  Ton- 
galine was  taken  in  doses  of  a  teaspoonful  at 
intervals  of  an  hour,  and  the  third  dose  relieved 
her  entirely.  There  was  no  malaise  or  bad  feel- 
ings of  any  kind  following  its  use.  Other  physi- 
cians here  speak  very  highly  of  their  experience 
with  Tongaline." 

THOMAS  H.  URQUHART,  M.D., 

Hastings,  Neb. 

It  contains  Tonga,  Ext.  Cimicifug^  Racemos.e  and  the  Sali- 
cylates OF  Sodium,  Pilocakpin  and  Colchicin. 

SEND   FOR  CLINICAL  REPORTS. 


IMIblC/^TEB  m 

NERVOUS  HEADACHE, 

Rheumatism, 
ia, 


La  Grippe, 

Sciatica, 

Gout. 


MELLIER  DRUG  COMPANY, 


Memion  this  Journal. 


109  &  III  Walnut  Street,  ST.  LOUIS. 


OCTOR 

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ointed 
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eriodiea 


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Prof.  W.  W.  DawsoHi  of  (Pinsinnatl,  E^c-Preeident  of  The  j\rnep.  ^ed.  yVes'n. 
eays:  "Th©  >\EDI©AI-i  >\IPil'^OF?  is  the  tersest,  brightest,  best  and  juieiest 
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Pharrnaseutieal  preparations,  food  pnoduets-any  th  ing  needed  by  the  DOOTOF? 
in  his  wopH— should  be  refleetod  in  the  MIRNOl'i  advertising  pages,  whioh 
the  Doetops  read  fop  a  peeord  of  the  PRO<3I<^ESS  OF  PHAlSJVlA©y- 

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territopy  in  petupn  tpibutapy  to  it  than  apy  othep  eity  in  fi.rr\eri<sa. 

Over  tvi'o-thipds  of  the  ppofession  of  St.  Louis  are  subsepibers  to  the  ^IIKJI'^OR. 

The  ^IF?FJOR  is  a  national  joupnal  — lapge  ©ireulation  in  all  the  States,  but  the 
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making  an  after-dinner  speech  ;  it  is  not  Grover  Cleveland  on  "The 
Campaign  of  Education,"  nor  yet  is  it  the  editor  of 

DflNIEL'5  TEXrt5  nEDlC/lL  JOURN/IL 

It  is  r>ot  a  patl?olO($ieal  ^peeicnev)  of  aijy  Kir)d.     It  is  Dr.  /r\erry/i\ar)'s 
id(?a  of  ^  piuribus  iJQU/ry,  or  ye  /r\(^dieal  profe55ior> — /T\aQy  i^  ot)<^ — all 

Clamoring  to  subscribe 


for  the  celebrated 
TEXAS  MEDICAL 
JOURNAL,  the  cham- 
pion of  LEGITIMATE 
MEDICINE  and  the  de- 
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that  has  done  more  for 
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than  all  other  agencies 
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always  fresh  and  inter- 
esting."   (Sanitarian.) 

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could  wish  for.  (St. 
Joseph  Medical  Herald.) 

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(HomcEopathic  Journal.) 

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entific value  of  its  con- 
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record.) 


is  tbe  Official  Or^ai^  of  ti?(?  \(^ad\r)<^  District  /T)(?di(:al  Soei<?ti<?5. 
f\[noT)<^  its  Collaborators  ari? 

M.  SWEARINGEN,  M.D.,  State  Health  Otticer  of  Texas. 

T.  D.  WOOTEN,  M.D.,  President  Board  of  Regents,  State  University, 

Professors  PAINE  and  HADRA,  of  the  Texas  Medical  College. 

Professor  BETZ,  of  Heilbron,  Germany,  etc. 


£dited  and  published  monthly  at  Austin,  Texas,  by 

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Subscription  price,  $2. GO  per  year.  Tlie  Best  Advertising  IMedium  in  Texas. 

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SLOWLY,  so  as  to  give  our  book-keeper  time  to  SPEND  THE  MONEY.       Address 

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THE  FIRST  RAW  FOOD  EXTRACT 

(Introduced  to  the  Medical  Profession  in  1878.) 

BOVININE 

THE  VITAL  PRINCIPLES  OF  BEEF  CONCENTRATED 

Containing  26  Per  Cent,  of  Coaguhle  Albumen 

AN  IDEAL  FOOD.  PALATABLE.  KEEPS   PERFECTLY. 


BOT7"I3STIiTE  consists  of  the  Juices  of  Lean  Raw  Beef  obtained  by 
a  mechanical  process,  neither  heat  nor  acid  being  used  in  its  preparation.  The 
nutritious  elements  of  lean  raw  beef  are  thus  presented  in  a  concentrated  solu- 
tion, no  disintegration  or  destruction  of  the  albumen  having  taken  place.  The 
proteids  in  solution  amount  to  26  per  cent,  of  the  weight  of  the  preparation, 
and  give  to  it)  the  great  dietetic  value  it  possesses  in  all  conditions  where  a 
concentrated  and  readily  assimilable  food  is  needed. 

BOTT'IZtn^nB  is  easily  digested  and  completely  absorbed  from 
the  intestinal  tract,  thus  furnishing  an  extremely  valuable  nutrient  in  Typhoid 
Fever,  after  surgical  operations  in  the  abdominal  regions,  in  all  diseased  con- 
ditions of  the  intestinal  tract  characterised  by  ulceration  or  acute  and  chronic 
inflammation,  and  in  diarrhoeic  complaints. 

BO'\7"I3Sn3>T!E,  containing  as  it  does  all  the  nutrient  properties  of 
lean  raw  beef  in  a  highly  concentrated  form,  furnishes  to  the  Medical  Profes- 
sion a  reliable  and  valuable  aid  to  treatment  in  Phthisis,  Marasmus  of  both 
young  and  old,  in  all  wasting  diseases,  in  continued  fevers,  end  in  supporting 
treatment. 

BOT7"I2>TI!LTE,  on  account  of  its  blood-making  properties  is 
especially  of  service  after  surgical  operations,  in  cases  of  severe  injuries  attended 
with  great  loss  of  blood,  and  in  the  peurperal  state. 

IBO'"^H>niTE,  for  rectal  feeding,  is  unsurpassed  in  excellence, 
having  been  used  for  weeks  continuously  with  no  irritation  or  disturbance 
resulting.  The  most  satisfactory  results  from  its  use  as  an  enema  are  obtained 
by  adding  to  each  ounce  of  SOVININE  ten  grains  of  Pancreatic  Extract 
and  two  ounces  of  water.  This  should  be  well  mixed  and  injected  slowly.  No 
preparation  of  opium  is  necessary  in  the  enema. 

SAMPLES  will  be  furnished  to  any  Dxemhcr  of  the  Medical 
Profession  free,  carriage  paid,  upon  application  to  the  company. 

«  ^  ■ 

The  J.  P.  Bush  Manufacturing  Co., 

CHICAGO  &  NEW  YORK,  U.  S.  A. 

DEPOT  FOR  GREAT  BRITAIN: 

32  s^otu  Kii^ii,  nofiDori,  E.  C. 


HUMMEL  AND   PARMELE 

MEDICAL   JOURNAL  ADVERTISING 

A.  L.  Hummel,  M.  D.      Ill      Chas.  Rocme  Parmele 


612  Drexel  Building 
PHILADELPHIA 


19  Park  Piace 
NEW    YORK 


GOUT 

CALCULI 

RHEUMATISM 


AND  ALL 


URINARY 
DISORDERS 


''GARROD  SPA" 

(Lithia-Potash  Water) 


Compounded   from   most    reliable    scientific   sources. 
Uniform  in  composition.    Agreeable  of  taste. 

CONTAINS  MORE   LITHIUM    BICARBONATE 

in  a  pint  than  any  natural  water  in  a  gallon. 


SKND    KOR    PAMPHLETS 

TO 

DR.  ENNO  SANDER 

SPECIAL  agencies:  ST.    LOUIS,    MO. 

R.  E    RHODE,  504  N    Clark  Street        CHICAGO 
JOHN  D.  PARK  &  SONS  ....  CINCINNATI 

MEYER  BROS.  DRUG  CO KANSAS  CITY 

RENZ  &  HENRY      LOUISVILLE 

RICHARDSON  DRUG  CO OMAHA 

W.  S.  THOMPSON,  703  Fifteenth  Street 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NOV  1  6  195f 


APR  2  8  RK' 

BIOMEO    JUL  2  4 


] 
1983 


AUG  2  5RO 


Form  L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 


i 


3  1158  00859  8194 


SyiTiptTOFl 


The  experiments  and  results  obtained  by  Heneage  Gibbes,  M.^,  Professcar 
of  p3ihc4og>,  Michigan  University,  and  E,  I,  Sfauriy,  M,a,  Pfofessor 
of  Clinical  Medicine  and  Laryngology,  at  the  Detroit  College  of  Medicine, 
in  the  treatm^int  of  Pulmonary  Comuniption  with  solutions  erf  chemlcaiiy 
pure  i^Kiine  and  chloride  of  g:old  and  sodium,  are  already  well  ksunm  to 
the  Medical  Frofcssioa. 

p  is  not  claimmf  too  much  for  this  method  to  stale  that  the  rcstiKs  from  its 
tnjploy««nt  save  been  far  more  promising  than  those  oHaiaed  from 

tuberculin,  or  from  any  method  for  the  trcatrxient  of  puhaoatf^  coo. 
sumption  hitherto  attempted. 

I  •"  ^ve5  us  much  pleasure  therefore  to  announce  that  we  are  now  prepared  to 
su^'ply  the  necessary  solutions  in  any  quantity  desired,  (with  the  endorse* 
meat  of  Drs.  Shurly  and  Gibbes),  and  to  guarantee  their  purity  an4 
unifomi  quality. 

Reprints  of  recorded  methods  of  usingthese  sdutions^  with  cHaical  reports, 
will  be  mailed  physicians  on  request 

The  solutions  are  put  up  in  one-ounce  bottles.  Priaperouaceofftacfe 
solution*  ^t.0O. 

DetRorr  i*5  new  yokk 


